


Circles and Time Again

by MythicalTzu



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Girlfriends/No Wives, Alternative Universe - earlier year, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Psychologists & Psychiatrists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:48:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 29,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28003410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MythicalTzu/pseuds/MythicalTzu
Summary: Rhett’s therapist is confused, Link has finally had enough, and Rhett has his work cut out for him if he wants to put his life back together.
Relationships: Rhett McLaughlin/Link Neal
Comments: 65
Kudos: 78





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to concavepatterns for her beta reading and assistance and for being the general inspiration that she is.

There was a time when Rhett McLaughlin wouldn’t have even considered therapy. Pay someone to listen to him talk? He has a best friend and an entire staff for that. 

But almost everyone he knows in LA has a therapist. Even a few of their _pets_ have therapists. It’s enough to trigger his curiosity, a curiosity that leads to a recommendation and soon after, to his ass being planted comfortably on the couch in a counselor’s office. 

By the end of the first month, Rhett is certain about one thing in life: he _loves_ therapy. 

Having a captive audience whose entire job is to sit quietly and listen is obviously the best idea ever. 

His therapist, Mark, is the most gifted listener he’s ever met. The man can sit and listen for hours (well, probably — he promptly evicts Rhett at the end of his fifty minutes) and his expression of rapt attention never wavers. Occasionally he asks a clarifying question but mostly he sits and listens in fascinated silence while taking notes in a heavy leather-bound journal with a professional-looking pen. 

He’s in the middle of explaining why ketosystemic-anabolic nutrition is the best and really the _only_ acceptable way to nourish your body if you care about muscle mass, which is a thing you definitely _should_ care about and it’s annoying that Link doesn’t — when Mark suddenly interrupts.

“I’ve noticed that Link comes up a lot in our sessions.”

Rhett blinks, startled. It’s been so long since Mark has spoken that he’s a bit surprised by the sound of another voice. 

“Yeah, ‘course he does. He’s my best friend and my business partner. Unfortunately, I can’t convince him that proper nutrition is important. The crap he eats, I just—”

“I mean, regardless of the subject, you wind up talking about him. It’s interesting.”

“Huh.” Rhett pauses for a moment, frowning. “Well, Link’s an interesting person. And he’d be a lot healthier if—”

“Nutrition aside. It’s clear that he’s important to you.”

Rhett continues to frown. “Well, yeah. ‘Course he is. Back to what I was saying—”

Mark closes his journal. “Time’s up,” he says firmly. “Next week, let’s talk about Link. Exclusively.”

—

The problem is that Rhett has no idea what to say about Link, exclusively. Fortunately he has a week to come up with something, so he starts spending a lot of time studying him while he ponders. 

Staring at Link is no hardship. He’s easy on the eyes, and Rhett especially appreciates the fitted t-shirts he’s been wearing lately. They set off his toned arms and tanned skin, and that’s important when your job involves looking good in front of the cameras. Complete disinterest in proper nutrition aside, he can’t deny that Link looks damn good for a man in his late 30’s. 

Link continues to work while being scrutinized, but eventually pauses to quirk a brow in his direction. “What?” 

Rhett shrugs. “Just looking at you. Thinking.”

“You’re making me self-conscious, and I’m tryin’ to concentrate.” 

When Rhett doesn’t drop his gaze, a faint blush creeps up Link’s neck to stain his cheeks. “Gimme your phone.”

Rhett hands it over without question, and Link fiddles with the display before snapping a selfie. “Here,” he says, passing it back with a new photo of himself front and center. “Stare at that instead, so I can work in peace.”

Rhett turns his gaze downward and smiles as he admires how photogenic Link is. His flawless skin, his vibrant eyes, his silver-shot dark hair…

“Seriously Rhett, what’s up with you? Why are you grinning at my photo like that?”

Rhett decides to be honest, because he’s now the sort of man who has no shame over regular therapy appointments. “My therapist wants me to talk about you next week. I’m tryin’ to figure out what to say.”

“What’s so hard about that? Just tell him I’m your best friend, business partner, creative accomplice, and the person you’ve loved since childhood.”

Rhett grimaces. “I’m not gonna tell him I love you.”

Link freezes over his keyboard. “Why not?”

“He’ll think I’m a sap. Or a simp. Or a simp-sap. You know. One of _those_ sorts.”

A stretch of silence passes before Link begins shoving his belongings into his backpack. It isn’t until the door closes behind him that Rhett’s brain fully registers his departure. 

“Link, wait,” he calls, chasing him down the hallway. He closes the distance just before Link reaches the exit. “Don’t be like this.” He connects with Link’s shoulder and clutches it hard.

Link attempts to squirm free, so Rhett pins him to the wall with his hands on Link’s upper arms and his body pressing in for reinforcement. “Come on, give me a hug. We need to get back to work. We’ve got that meeting in a few minutes, right?”

Link’s face flushes dark and his eyes narrow. “Knock it off, Rhett.”

Rhett should be able to hold him in place, but Link uses his smaller size and superior flexibility to twist free. A second later he slams out the door and all but runs to his car. Rhett is right behind him, but has a suspicion that further pursuit isn’t gonna help his case.

“Can we just talk?” he calls.

Link flips him the bird before climbing into his car and speeding away.

Well, he consoles himself as he slumps his way back inside, at least he has something to talk about in therapy now.


	2. Chapter 2

Rhett is in a mood when he arrives for his appointment. He doesn’t even bother with the usual greeting or a preamble; he just sinks into the couch and regards his therapist unhappily. 

“Link isn’t speaking to me.”

Mark’s eyebrows shoot up, creating an expression Rhett hasn’t seen before, and he’s got a sinking suspicion that what he’s seeing signifies genuine interest.

“Why is that?”

“Who the hell knows?” Rhett kicks out his legs and settles into the soft cushions. Too soft, really. It’s like the sofa is trying to suck him under, hold him captive and force him to spill his secrets. “He’s moody. He got into one of his states for some reason, and then I maybe tried to trap him against a wall so he wouldn’t run away from me and he didn’t like that at all.”

Mark’s eyebrows raise another notch. “You had him trapped?”

“Yup. I’m a lot bigger than he is.”

“Why? What was your plan?”

Rhett takes a moment to think before shaking his head. “Man, I don’t even know. I don’t think I had a plan. Just wanted to be close to him, I guess.”

“Ahh.”

Rhett heaves a sigh. “Yeah, I get it. It was shitty of me. But the thing is, I’ve done lots of shitty things to him. He should be used to it by now.”

Mark’s silence manages to convey exactly what he thinks of that sentiment. 

Rhett tries again. “I wanted to buy a few minutes so I could convince him to forgive me. Then I could hug him maybe, and things would go back to normal.”

“Ah. Is that how you typically resolve conflict with each other?”

“Well, no. But I figured it would make us both feel better. That’s all I wanted, to make things better.”

“And you communicated this to him by pinning him against a wall?”

Rhett grimaces. “I never claimed that my communication was _perfect_. So how do I fix this?”

Mark jots down a few notes. “How do you usually work through conflict?”

“Uh. We yell at each other, then one of us gives in, then the other is pissed off until we both decide to get over it because we’ve got work to do.”

“Do you consider that a healthy dynamic?”

Rhett shrugs. “It’s worked for us so far. Thirty years and counting. Most marriages don’t last that long.”

“Hmm.”

“But I guess I’d better apologize. What do you think?”

“I think that might be a good start.”

—

The problem with apologizing is that Link isn’t currently speaking to him. He’s not even really looking at him. That isn’t like Link. His anger burns hot and bright, but he isn’t one to hold grudges. Rhett half-figures that things will be back to normal in a day or two, three tops, but Link is holding strong with his silence.

Obviously, that can’t stand. They have a business to run together, and a big part of that business is their friendship. It’s their brand, and it’s not something that can be faked or performed on demand. They have to fix things, and quick.

“Come on Link,” he wheedles after being iced out during a writers’ meeting. “Can’t you just forgive me already?”

“Forgive you for what?” Link’s voice is cool and his eyes remain fixed on his phone.

“The thing that happened the other day. That was dumb. I was dumb. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

Link looks up with a withering expression. “You’ll never chase me down and shove me against a wall again?”

“Never again,” Rhett promises, widening his eyes to convey just how sincere he is. 

“Gosh, I’m so glad to hear it.” It seems like he’s about to say something more when an intern appears in the doorway to remind them that they’re needed on set in five.

Link pockets his phone and follows without another word.

—

As he was pondering earlier, their friendship isn’t something that can be performed. If they aren’t feeling it, it’s obvious to everyone from Stevie to the crew to the fans who will be watching later and leaving concerned comments. It doesn’t help that the segment they’re filming isn’t especially inspired, and Link appears to have little enthusiasm for taste-testing packets of chips from various continents. Rhett does his best to be extra-excited about shoving fried saltiness into his mouth, but frequent glances at the monitor suggest that he’s probably not fooling anyone either.

Mid-way through the More Link basically stops speaking, leaving Rhett and Stevie to carry the remainder of the segment on their own. When the cameras cut, Link leaves their desk to confer briefly with Stevie before walking out without so much as a glance at Rhett.

Rhett watches his departing back with dismay before turning an accusing look to Stevie. It isn’t her fault, but he can’t seem to help himself. “Where’s _he_ going?”

Stevie deliberately finishes whatever task she’d busied herself with before looking at him. “I don’t know,” she says, the words coming slower than usual, as if she’s speaking to some sorta moron. “Maybe you should check your schedule.”

Oh, yeah. His schedule, which is also Link’s schedule. Scowling, he retrieves his phone and does just that, and his scowl deepens when he sees that Link has dropped out of his next two meetings and is apparently taking the afternoon off. 

That’s some bullshit. He sits and fumes until he realizes that everyone still in the room is watching him, either openly or furtively. He beats a hasty retreat, doing his best to ignore the whispers that follow in his wake.

As soon as he enters their office, he phones Link.

The line rings twice before unceremoniously dumping him into voice mail, where he’s greeted by a cheery pre-recorded version of his partner. “…so leave me a message, and I’ll get right back to you!”

“Link. What the hell, man. Call me.”

He hangs up, paces a few circles, then sends a text. 

_“I mean it. We need to talk. This is not okay.”_

That, too, is ignored. 

He walks back and forth across the length of the room before slamming his way out of the building. He’s in his car and halfway to Link’s house before he remembers he didn’t bother to cancel his meetings as Link had.

More evidence that he’s an inconsiderate bastard. He slaps his palms against the steering wheel, berating himself for the remainder of the drive but unwilling to rectify his error. They’ll figure out that he’s not there when the meetings begin without him.

—

He knocks and rings the bell numerous times, but there’s no answer. Rhett knows he’s in there, though. He can practically feel him, he’s so close. After another round of pounding and ringing, he fishes his keys from his pocket and sorts through them one by one until he locates the one for Link’s house.

His fingers snag over the jagged metal teeth, and he hesitates before inserting it into the lock. The motion summons a rush of memories that dig hooks into his mind even as he does his best to shove them down. His heart in his throat, the hurt on Link’s face, the sheen of tears in his eyes—

No.

He unlocks the door and steps inside Link’s immaculate home.

“Hey Link,” he calls, not wanting to frighten his skittish friend or make him think there’s an intruder. Speaking of which, he turns to the left and enters the code to disable the alarm system, keying in the final digit just before the timer clicks to zero.

He searches room by room, but Link is nowhere to be found. He even goes upstairs to check the bedrooms, but finds only perfectly made beds and drawn blinds. Finally, he returns to the main level and opens the sliding glass door leading outside.

Link is sprawling in a lounge chair by the pool, clad in nothing but a pair of tiny swim shorts and sunglasses. His arms are positioned above his head, and Rhett is immediately struck by how defenseless he is. He doesn’t even know he’s being watched. Rhett could be anyone, even someone who intends him harm.

“Hey buddy,” he says eventually. He keeps his voice low, but Link practically jumps out of his chair anyway, the glasses falling from his face and to reveal eyes that are wide with shock.

“Rhett, what the fuck,” he snaps, reaching for a nearby towel to cover himself. “How did you get back here? And what are you _doing_ here?” He doesn’t wait for a response. “I don’t know how to make it any clearer that I don’t wanna talk to you right now. Why can’t you respect my most basic wishes?”

Rhett winces. His eyes fix on the towel Link uses to cover himself, because when has he ever felt the need to do _that_ before? It’s all so wrong. “I let myself in,” he explains at last, dropping into the chair closest to Link. “I have a key, remember?”

“No, I’d completely forgotten,” Link says, his eyes blazing.

“I just wanna talk.” Rhett’s voice is low, his eyes lower. “Or since you don’t wanna talk, can I just sit here for a while?”

Link resettles himself into his lounge chair and shrugs. “Do what you want,” he says, picking up his sunglasses and draping the towel across his entire midsection. “It’s not like I can force you to leave. If I call the cops, we’re gonna be on the news.”

The words land like a physical blow. “You’d do that?”

“I just said I wasn’t gonna.”

Rhett sinks into his chair and sits in silence for as long as he can stand it. He’s just about to open his mouth and say something, anything, when Link saves him the trouble.

“Listen,” he begins. “I’ve been thinking.”

Rhett can’t quite keep the eagerness out of his voice. “Yeah?” At least Link is talking to him. That’s a step in the right direction. 

“Yeah.” Link is in no rush, falling silent for a painfully long time before he speaks again. “I’ve been wondering, how many more things can we eat? How long before our schtick gets old? It’s already starting to feel, I dunno… played out. I’ve been thinking, maybe we should start talking about how we wrap things up.”

Rhett can’t reply, because Link’s statement connects directly with his solar plexus, stealing away the air he needs to form words.

“Youtube feels like a place for young people,” Link continues, apparently unaware of Rhett’s distress. Or maybe he just doesn’t care. “Don’t you think we’re getting a little old for this?”

Rhett manages to pull himself together for a moment. 

“You’re thirty-five!”

“My point exactly.”

“That’s not old. That’s not even close to old.”

“Some days, it sure feels that way. Like today, for example.”

He knows it’s exactly the wrong thing to say, but Rhett just can’t help himself. “Because you’re not eating right,” he says in a heated rush. “All that crap you snack on instead of actual meals. Cereal, ice cream, peanut butter, none of that is a substitute for real food with actual nutritional value. You’d feel so much better and be so much healthier if you would just—”

“Rhett.”

“I’d manage it for you, even. Give you a week’s worth of starter menus. Bring you some prepped stuff from my freezer. Once you get used to it, you won’t even mind the changes. Cutting out sugar would do so much for your metabolistic—”

“ _Rhett_.”

The urgency in Link’s voice cuts through his panicked ramblings and refocuses his attention. He realizes that he hasn’t even been looking at Link and when he shifts his gaze to his friend’s face, he’s alarmed by the exhausted resignation he finds there.

“Yeah,” he says quickly, quietly. “I’m an idiot. I’m shutting up now.”

Another tense span of silence lapses before Link speaks again. “I just want you to start thinking about it,” he says, his voice soft and focused. “I’d rather we quit while people still want more of what we offer. I don’t wanna be those embarrassing guys who are shoveling it out long after everyone has moved on, you know?” 

Rhett just sits for a while, letting all of that wash over him and trying not to allow what he’s feeling drag him into a place where he can’t speak. “Our employees,” he manages at last.

“We’ve done a lot for them,” Link replies so quickly that it’s clear he’s given this considerable thought. “I’ve been thinking we’ll promote them first. Give them impressive-sounding job titles. And we’ll provide generous severance packages as well. They’re all talented and ambitious; they’ll be fine without us.”

This time, all Rhett can manage is a stiff nod. He sits and stares at the surface of Link’s pool, his limbs growing heavy, his mind going blank. He has no idea how much time has passed when Link speaks again. 

“Let’s plan for a time to talk about it more, okay?” His voice is gentle and compassionate. “I’ll give you some space to process this.”

Once some of the fog clears from his mind, Rhett pushes himself to his feet. “Okay,” he says. “We’ll do that. This is… a lot. And we’ll… yeah.”

He can’t read Link’s face; he’s half-hiding behind his sunglasses, and he’s not looking at Rhett. He waits a few minutes to see if Link has anything more to add, but as the silence settles between them, he decides the best thing he can do is go home.

He exits through the back gate and practically runs to his car. He’s barely got the door closed before he’s sobbing against the steering wheel, his body hunched and shuddering.


	3. Chapter 3

Rhett decides that it’s a good time to take some time off work.

Actually, it’s a terrible time to take time away from work. They have several multi-shoot days scheduled along with meetings, costume fittings, interviews and appearances, but Rhett calls it all off with a single email. Stevie protests, but apparently Link intercepts her almost immediately and her next set of emails are calm and pragmatic, with attachments proposing new time slots for everything.

Rhett ignores all of it and silences his phone.

Without work or Link to fill his time, he’s surprised by how much of it he has at his disposal. He exercises, showers, eats breakfast, reads part of a book, takes a long walk, and watches half a movie. He’s shocked when he checks the clock and finds that it’s only early afternoon.

It’s a stark warning of what his life might devolve into if he allows things to continue as they are.

He gives Gregg a call and exchanges awkward pleasantries before admitting that he’s calling for a reason. 

“It’s Link,” he says. “He’s thinking that maybe it’s time to move on from Mythical. That we should start wrapping things up and go our separate ways.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish I were.” Rhett sighs. “…so?”

“So… what?”

Rhett fights down his impatience. “How do I convince him not to do this?”

There’s a flat span of silence. “I don’t know,” Greg says at last. “You’re the person who could always convince him of things. I never even tried. Maybe you should start by… I dunno. Figuring out why he’d suddenly want to step away from a life-long friendship and end a thriving career? I’ve never known Link to do anything without a good reason.”

“Oh.” Rhett closes his eyes. “I guess he does have his reasons.”

“Well, there you go! If you know what his reasons are, then maybe address those? Talk things out? Get him to see your point of view?” There’s a voice in the background, followed by a muffled response from Greg before Rhett has him back again. “Hey man, I’m really sorry, but I’ve got to run. But good luck getting things sorted with Link. If it’s any consolation, I doubt he wants what he’s saying he wants right now. That’s just… not him.”

Rhett sits and ponders that before settling down to finish the rest of his movie. 

—

Therapy is no longer nearly as much fun.

He no longer rants or lectures while relaxing within the too-soft couch, pontificating until his voice grows ragged. 

Now he sits uneasily, eyes glued to Mark’s face as he attempts to divine some sort of wisdom in the man’s nearly unreadable expressions. Or if not wisdom, at least a clue about what he should do next.

“Have you told Link how you feel?”

Irritated, Rhett brushes a hand through the air. “He knows how I feel. He probably knows how I feel better than I do. He’s good with feelings. He’d be way better at this therapy thing than I am.”

“It’s not a competition.”

“I’d probably be better at it if it were.” He kicks the heels of his shoes against the carpet, frowning.

Mark sighs. “If you aren’t going to take this seriously, I don’t know if I can be of further help to you.”

Rhett stares at him, his mouth falling open. “Are you saying that I’m so bad at this you’re ready to break up with me?”

Mark grimaces. “Therapists don’t ‘break up’ with their clients, Rhett. But if we reach a point where we decide sessions are no longer beneficial, clients are often referred elsewhere.”

“Sounds like a break up to me.” He shifts around on the couch, in search of a comfortable position that doesn’t exist. “I can’t believe this. I can’t even _pay_ people to stick around anymore. How did it come to this?”

Mark ignores his lamentation. “Perhaps you should consider telling Link exactly how you feel. Even if you’re certain he already knows. Maybe he does.” Mark spreads his hands and shrugs. “Maybe he’d still like to hear those words. What did you say his love language is?”

Rhett can’t keep the sulky tone from his voice. “Words of affirmation.”

“Well now.” Mark beams a smile at him. “That sounds like a clue. And you don’t strike me as the sort of person who would choose to dodge an uncomfortable conversation at the risk of losing his closest friend, career, and business.”

“Yeah,” Rhett agrees. “That’s not me. That’s not the guy I am.”

—

He continues to tell himself that on the way home, and periodically repeats it while pouring himself a bowl of cereal and scarfing it down while watching some trash on television. 

—

“I’m not the sort of guy who lets things slide through his fingers,” he tells his new best friend after buying their third (or maybe fourth) round. “Nope. I take on life directly. Confront situations fearlessly. Feel my feelings, and share what matters with the people who matter the most.”

“Cheers to that, mate,” Peter tells him, clinking their glasses together before downing most of his in a single swallow. “If you love her, you gotta tell her. Look her straight in the eyes and tell her,” he pauses to touch his fingers to Rhett’s chin and swivel his face towards him, “Linds—”

“Link.”

“Link. Link?” Peter blinks his blurry eyes. “That’s an unusual name. Look her straight into her eyes and tell her—”

“Him.”

“Him? Yeah, I guess ‘Link’ makes more sense for a dude.” He polishes off the rest of his drink in a single pass. “Look him straight in the eyes and tell him, Link? I love you, man. I love you so much that when I look up at the sky, I name every star that shines after you. I love you so much that when I go to the beach, I count the grains of sand, trying to figure out how much love a man can possess within his heart. When I— hic— I…”

Rhett clasps a hand to his shoulder and signals the bartender. “Another drink for my buddy here,” he says while settling the tab.

—

When Rhett returns to work the following week, Link seems more like himself. He’s smiling at their employees, chatting easily with Stevie, and attending each rescheduled meeting with the air of someone fully committed. It’s only Rhett that he’s distant with, and for whom his smiles slide into feigned politeness.

“Listen,” Rhett says when the two of them have a moment alone. They aren’t in their office — Link seems to be carefully avoiding that space — so he takes Link’s arm and tugs him into the bathroom before continuing. 

“Really?” Link looks around in distaste. 

“It’s clean, and private.” Rhett takes a steadying breath. “Listen. I don’t want to end things, not with you or at Mythical. I don’t even want to think about that. Far as I’m concerned, we’re just getting started. There’s so much other stuff we could be doing, and so many other directions we could take the show.”

Link listens, expressionless, so Rhett keeps talking. A note of desperation enters his voice, but he pushes ahead. “I’ll change whatever you wanna change. We can film fewer days, switch back to doing sketches, host more guests, play more games, whatever would make you happy.”

Link gives a nod that expresses acknowledgment but little else. “There really isn’t anything I wanna change,” he says. “It’s just what I said the other day. I feel like it’s time to start wrapping this up so we can move on to the next thing.”

“We?” Hope flares in his chest.

“Well, both of us. Whatever we each do next.”

The disappointment is so strong he has to grip the sink to keep himself steady. “Oh,” he manages.

Link’s eyes flood with sympathy. “I’m sorry,” he says softly. “It’s hard for me, too. The difference is that I’ve had a lot more time to think it through.”

Rhett shakes his head, unable to reply.

Link places his hand on his shoulder, his touch soft and warm. “This isn’t the end of us, Rhett. I’m not going to love you any less even when I’m not seeing you every day—”

He doesn’t think, just reacts. He pushes away from the sink and wraps both arms around Link’s waist, dragging their bodies flush and dipping his head to bring their lips together. Link tenses against him, like he’s ready to push away or maybe fight, but as Rhett’s tongue slips between his lips his body goes pliant and shaky in his arms. Rhett holds him up as they kiss frantically, with Link’s arms wrapping themselves around his neck for further support.

“I’ve got you,” Rhett whispers hoarsely between kisses. He sucks Link’s tongue into his mouth like he needs it to live, and Link groans as his arms break out in gooseflesh. 

Rhett doesn’t waste any time. He slides his hand between their bodies and works it down Link’s pants to squeeze his cock. The contact elicits another groan, this one deeper and needier. Rhett quickly unfastens Link’s pants to give himself more access to slide his hand up and down Link’s erection, which twitches in his grasp. 

“So fucking hot,” he whispers into Link’s ear. He shouldn’t be doing any of this, especially not in an unlocked bathroom, but he couldn’t stop now if his life depended on it. Blood pounds through his veins, sweat beads at his hairline, and Link’s breathy little moans are almost too much for his system to handle. 

He fixes all of his attention to Link’s responses, the arms locked around his neck, the sharp little thrusts that meet each of his strokes. Within minutes Link’s cock is leaking freely, adding to the intense pleasure of caressing his throbbing length. When he shifts his angle to slick his palm over the head again, Link drops a hand on top of his and redirects his attention. 

“No,” he chokes out. “Keep going. Just like you were, just--”

Rhett does as instructed, keeping his eyes on Link’s flushed face, his gaping mouth, and eyes that are slitted with pleasure. “Just like this,” he agrees, tightening his grip and quickening his pace. “Just like this. I could come just from feeling you, just from watching you, and—” 

Link whimpers, twisting in his arms.

“—and hearing you, my god, you’re so beautiful…”

Link buries his face against Rhett’s neck as he thrusts against him again and again before suddenly going entirely still. When he comes, his fingers dig and scrape at Rhett’s back. Helpless little cries escape his throat in spite of his best efforts, and Rhett grins hugely as he strokes him through a shuddering orgasm that goes on and on.

He finally collapses into Rhett’s arms, allowing himself to be supported entirely as Rhett presses a line of kisses against his forehead. “So beautiful,” he repeats, his voice low and choked.

Once Link’s racing heart slows and he’s able to stand on his own again, he looks down between them in dismay. “Great, just great. Anyone who even glances at you--”

Rhett silences him with another kiss before tugging his t-shirt over his head. Link’s right, it’s a mess, thick streaks of come standing in stark relief against the dark material. “Easily fixed,” he says lightly, giving it a quick rinse in the sink.

Link laughs. “What, you’re gonna tell people you were in a one-man wet t-shirt contest?”

“Like anyone would question that,” Rhett replies. “Besides, I only gotta make it as far as our office. I’ve got spares there.” He hangs it over the edge of the sink for a moment to wash his hands before turning his attention back to Link.

His skin is flushed a lovely shade of pink, his lips are swollen, and his eyes shine behind his glasses. Rhett takes a moment to adjust Link’s hair with his fingers, worrying it first one way and then the other before the silky strands fall into place. “You look so good,” he whispers, unable to help himself.

But Link’s smile fades. “Oh god,” he says, the words shaking. “I can’t believe I allowed that to happen. What is wrong with me. Why don’t I learn?”

“Link.” Rhett reaches for his hand and winds up with his wrist, but it doesn’t matter. He’s making contact again, and that’s all he needs. 

Link doesn’t jerk away from him, but his shoulders slump and he pulls in on himself, visibly shrinking before Rhett’s eyes. “It’s like I enjoy being hurt. Like I just can’t get enough of being toyed with and rejected.” His eyes pop open to look up at Rhett with an accusing expression. “So how long until you pretend none of this happened?”

Rhett shakes his head. “I won’t.”

“You will, and we both know you will.”

“Not this time.” He slides his hand down Link’s wrist to grasp his hand, interlocking their fingers with care. “I promise. Give me the word and I’ll walk out there with you right now, just like this.”

Link grimaces. “We’re not inflicting our bullshit on our employees. I think they suffer enough, don’t you?” He doesn’t wait for a reply. “Besides, you’re only willing to do that because I’m ready to leave. It took me being ready to end everything for you to consider dropping the big secret. And even now, it’s only with a ridiculous offer you knew I’d turn down.”

“Tell me what to do, then.”

There’s a long pause, and when Link looks up again, his eyes are bright with unshed tears. “Maybe stop breaking my heart? Do you think you could do that?”

Rhett fights to talk around the solid mass that’s formed in his throat. “I can. I will. I promise.”

But Link is already looking at the floor and shaking his head. “This is a mistake. I’m being an idiot again.”

He isn’t too proud to beg. Not when it’s Link. “Give me another chance. Just one more, Link. I swear, I’ll make everything right and prove that I deserve a place in your life.”

Link doesn’t answer, exactly, but he gives a tiny nod and allows Rhett to fold him into a brief hug before they exit the bathroom, one at a time.


	4. Chapter 4

Rhett has come to sort of hate therapy. 

This week, he can’t even sit down. He paces back and forth in front of Mark, muttering to himself until his therapist tells him to cut it out.

Rhett flops onto the couch and throws his arm across his brow. “You gotta tell me how to do it right this time. I can’t fuck it up again.”

Mark looks baffled. “How can I possibly help you when you’ve told me almost nothing? A week ago you claimed he was just your business partner. You pretended there was absolutely nothing about him worth discussing in our sessions.”

Rhett bristles. “Nah, I also told you he’s been my best friend since we were six.”

“Okay.” Mark takes a deep breath. “And now he’s also the love of your life?”

Rhett nods. “See, you do understand.”

Mark’s expression morphs into an entirely unprofessional display of irritation. “I’m sorry, but if you can’t give me basic information, I can’t help you. Therapy isn’t magic.”

Rhett crosses his arms over his chest. “It should be,” he sulks. “But fine. It’s like this. He’s not _just_ my life-long best friend, business partner, and creative accomplice — we also have a thing together.”

“A thing?”

“Yes.”

“Can you please be more specific?”

Rhett sighs. “Sex,” he says. “We have sex. Great sex. He’s incredibly hot, and our chemistry is off the charts. He’s so amazing that I just…”

“Rhett.”

“Yeah.”

“I need you to… not do that in my office.”

Rhett follows Mark’s gaze and finds that his hand has somehow traveled into his crotch.

“Oh,” he says, blushing. “Jeez. Sorry. I’m, uh. Gosh.”

“It’s okay,” Mark tells him kindly. “So what I’m hearing is that you’ve had a long-term sexual relationship with your best friend, but the sexual side of things has gone badly in the past. You want my help ensuring that that doesn’t happen again, because he’s giving you one last chance.”

“Not exactly.”

“Then clarify, please.”

“Sex has always been great. Incredible, even. Mind-blowing and— ahem. The problem is more about the love part of things.”

“Oh?” Mark leans forward, interested.

“Yeah. I don’t really know why. Things will be going great for a while, and then…” He trails away into a frown. “Maybe it’s the plans I used to have for my life. They involved a wife and then kids. That’s been a real hard thing for me to give up, even for him.”

“But you could have a husband, and then adopt children? Or hire a surrogate.”

“Sure.” Rhett fidgets. “That’s what I tell myself. But then I remember that guys don’t do this where I’m from. Then the other part of me flares up and I somehow manage to sabotage everything.”

“How so?”

Rhett sighs. “Well, once I started dating a woman.”

Mark blinks a few times. “While you were with him?”

“I guess so. He wasn’t happy.”

“I imagine not. Were you in a monogamous relationship at the time?”

“Well, we never said those words. But he kinda figured we were. And I never corrected his thinking… probably because I agreed until my brain malfunctioned.” He takes a breath. “And then, after he forgave me for that, he asked me to move in with him.”

“Really. How did you respond?”

“I said yes.”

“Oh?”

“Then I backed out at the last minute.” His entire gut clenches at the memory. “He was so hurt,” he adds in a near whisper.

Mark lets the words settle into silence before continuing. “He gave you another chance after that?”

“He did, believe it or not. And things actually were going really great for a long time. He even asked me to marry him.”

This time, the silence from Mark is of the shocked variety. “Oh. Well. That’s fascinating. I assume you said no?”

Rhett gives him a look. “Of course not. I’m not crazy.”

Mark’s expression is baffled. “So…?”

Rhett shrugs. “So, we’re actually engaged. I mean, technically.”

Mark’s eyes drop to Rhett’s hands. “You aren’t wearing a ring.”

“Yeah. He was pretty disappointed about that.”

“And I suppose you never set a date, either.”

“No. Never, uh, told anyone, either. You’re the first, so um. Congrats?”

Mark eyes him, thoroughly unimpressed. 

Rhett forces his eyes up to meet his gaze. “So what does that expression you’re wearing mean?”

“It means I find it hard to believe that he’s giving you yet another chance.”

Rhett heaves a sigh. “I told you I’ve done lots of shitty things to him.”

“I’m starting to think _he_ should be the one sitting on my couch. Maybe you should give him my card.”

“Haha. Very funny. I love LA, where even the therapists think they’re comedians.”

“I’m not laughing. I don’t know what to say right now.” He pauses for a moment. “Except that it sounds like the common thread. Your attempts to be a good romantic partner to him have consistently failed. Are you _certain_ this is what you want?”

“Yes. Absolutely. I’ve got my head clear this time around.”

Mark looks doubtful, but gives a reluctant nod. “In that case, it seems you have a lot to prove to him, and no time to waste.” He seems relieved when the alarm chimes, signaling the end of their session.

—

Since Mark is no help at all, Rhett decides to formulate his own ideas on how to fix things. He buys his own journal and a professional-looking pen and after a few minutes of heavy pondering, jots down a plan.

_Number one: Be nice._ That should be easy.

_Number two: Be affectionate._ Link loves affection. Rhett, not as much, but this list isn’t about winning over himself.

_Number three: Be sexy._ Again, should be easy, not to mention effective.

_Number four: Feed him._ Maybe he can work some healthy stuff in with Link’s junk.

_Number five: Orgasms._ No problems in that department, so long as Link allows him access.

_Number six: Take care of him._ Tricky, because Link can be suspicious, but highly effective if he can pull it off.

After a few more minutes of pondering, he adds a final item to his plan.

_Number seven: Don’t be a dick._ All right, maybe that won’t be easy, but he’s confident he can manage.

He studies the list a little longer, frowning. It doesn’t seem quite complete, but he figures it can be a work in progress.

—

Rhett is one of the last people (okay, the absolute last person) to join the late afternoon meeting. There’s already someone sitting beside Link and a perfectly acceptable empty chair across the table, so naturally he walks over to the interloper and stands behind her. “Excuse me,” he says, and his voice must have come out louder than intended because the intern jumps before hastily gathering her things.

“Sorry, sorry,” she mutters while scrambling over to the unoccupied seat.

Link shoots him a look, but Rhett is too busy settling in to spend much time analyzing it.

“So,” Morgan says once the intern is seated. “I’ll try to be as brief as possible today. If you wanna follow along with the agenda…”

Rhett didn’t bring the agenda, and has tuned out by the time everyone else is flipping through notebooks and stacks of paper, pens in hand. He inches his chair closer to Link’s and presses their knees together. When Link blushes, he toes off his shoe and places his foot against Link’s ankle. Link tenses, but doesn’t move away. He follows the entire meeting with apparent interest, but the tips of his ears grow bright red.

The two of them are the last to depart, and they sit in silence until the door closes. As soon as they’re alone, Link’s congenial expression turns stern.

“Rhett,” he says, pulling his foot away. “I appreciate your efforts, but could you cool it in front of the staff?”

Rhett allows his eyes to roam around the empty room. “How about now? Nobody’s here now.”

Link’s chastising look intensifies. “There’s windows. Plus anyone could walk in here at any moment.” He stands and begins gathering his things.

Rhett studies him with a slow-growing smile. “Don’t think I’m not seeing that.” He wraps his arms around Link from behind and slides one hand down to investigate the fullness in his friend’s trousers. 

Link freezes, allowing Rhett’s hands to roam for a few seconds before pulling away. “Naughty,” he scolds, but he’s half-smiling as he slips out of the room.

—

Rhett corners Josh in the kitchen the following morning. 

“Hey man,” he says, frowning as he watches Josh do some sort of prep work involving onions and rainbow sprinkles. He has a sinking feeling that’s gonna be part of his breakfast tomorrow, which is something he’d probably know for certain if he hadn’t skipped so many meetings recently. “I’m wondering if you can make some peanut butter treats?”

Josh freezes in place and gives an owlish blink. “Did I forget something?”

“Naw.” Rhett offers a wide grimace in place of a smile. “It’s not for an episode, it’s for me. Well, not for me exactly — it’s for Link.”

“Link wants a peanut butter treat?”

“Naw. _I_ want some peanut butter treats. Treats, made out of peanut butter, that I can give Link. And I want you to make them for me. Can you?”

There’s a slight pause before Josh responds. “Sure can, boss. Do you have anything specific in mind, or did you want me to get creative?”

“Creative, definitely,” Rhett encourages. “But tasty things, not stuff that’s gonna make him heave. No peanut butter dipped sardines or anything like that. Maybe start with some peanut butter ice cream. With chocolate or something mixed in?” He pauses to consider his suggestion. “Other things too. Whatever you can come up with that’s peanut-buttery and stands a decent chance of pleasing Link.”

Josh nods agreeably. “How soon do you need it?”

Rhett shrugs. “Ten years ago.”

Josh raises both eyebrows.

“…but since we don’t have a mythical time-machine yet, as soon as you can. But for now go ahead and finish…” He eyes Josh’s current project uncertainly. “Uh, whatever this is.”

“One of the five things you’ll be eating on camera tomorrow.”

Rhett moves closer, lowering his voice. “Is there any way that when you make us gross stuff, you could make Link’s… I dunno, a little less gross? Just for the next few months?”

Josh looks genuinely scandalized. “Link would be mad if he found out. Like, seriously pissed.”

“True.”

“He’s scary when he’s mad, and he’d be madder at me than he would at you.”

“I wouldn’t count on that.”

Josh stares down at his creation, frowning. “I mean, you’re the boss. If you want me to start faking things, then…”

“Not faking! Just… keeping your other boss happy.”

“But only for the next few months.”

“Yeah.” Rhett plasters on a performance-worthy grin. “Help me for a few months. I just need a little time to fix things.”

—

The following day, he waits until he and Link have a few minutes alone in their office before launching into the next phase of his plan.

“Hey Link,” he says from his place at the desk. “Hey. Hey.”

Link finishes whatever he was working on before responding. “Yeah?”

“You look really good today.”

Link returns his attention to his screen. “Oh. Thanks.”

“I mean it.”

“…thanks.”

“That blue shirt. Looks great with your eyes, really sets off their color. I was just thinking about your eyes the other day. How nobody’s got eyes that blue. Your hair’s exactly the right shade of dark to compliment them, too.”

“Yeah, I got it.” Link continues to type.

“You believe me, right?”

“Sure.” He writes another few sentences, hitting the spacebar hard for extra emphasis. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Rhett frowns as he studies Link’s face, which is still bowed over his work. “I dunno,” he says at last. “You just seem…”

“…Uncomfortable?”

“Yeah, that.”

“Well, that I am.” He grants Rhett a small, tense smile before closing his laptop and standing. “Plus I’m late for a thing with Alex. I’ll catch you later.”

He must look especially bereft, because Link intentionally brushes against him on the way out the door — a gesture that Rhett doesn’t find nearly as comforting as he normally would.

A thing.

With Alex.


	5. Chapter 5

It’s not that he has an issue with Alex. Punch is a good guy, likable and charming. He gets along with everyone, adds a sense of fun to mundane tasks, and came to them with a surprising amount of experience for someone so young.

They’re lucky to have him, and he's an important member of their team — which is unfortunate for Rhett, because Rhett would _really_ like to fire him.

There’s absolutely no reason why Alex should be fired except for Rhett’s stupid feelings, so he doesn’t often allow himself to even imagine the possibility. Still, it’s difficult not to do so at times like this, when he’s lingering by the general meeting room, listening in just out of sight.

What he sees is an obnoxious display: Alex is hanging off Link’s every word and laughing at everything he says. He’s warm and responsive, and Link’s smile is genuine, his expression relaxed. They appear to be having a great time together as they work on whatever it is they’re doing. Something Link _should_ be doing with him, Rhett suspects, but it’s not like he can go crashing in and order Alex away. 

Instead he watches with clenched hands, getting increasingly worked up as he watches Alex find excuses to get closer to his boss. He touches him as he talks, his hands brushing Link’s arm or his wrist and once — maddeningly — shifting a stray lock of hair from Link’s eyes. It’s blatant and utterly unprofessional but Link just laughs, basking in Alex’s admiration and attention.

When he finally can’t stand another second of it, he goes stomping down the hallway. It’s possible he makes a bit more noise than he realizes, because he’s almost certain he catches a strain of laughter that’s slightly higher-pitched and almost certainly at his expense.

—

He has big plans for the following week starting Monday morning, but when he arrives at the studio he’s surprised to find that Link’s car isn’t in the parking lot. He checks his phone — no new texts, no new messages. He checks his calendar — no changes. Finally, after twenty minutes of impatient waiting, he tracks down Stevie to question her.

As usual, Stevie is cool with him. It’s a bummer, because there was a time when he considered her a close friend, but somehow that friendship faded into the chill of professionalism.

“He just texted,” she says with a slight frown. “He’s staying home today because he’s not feeling well.”

“He’s sick?” Rhett isn’t sure if he should be excited or concerned. He doesn’t want Link to suffer, of course. But if it’s just a minor cold or something along those lines…

“He didn’t give me any details,” Stevie replies. “Just that he won’t be in today. I’ll shuffle the schedule, and you can still go ahead with the—”

“No, cancel out my day too,” he says. “I’m gonna go check on him.”

Stevie’s slight frown deepens. “I’m pretty sure he’s staying home because he wants to be alone, Rhett. Give him a day or two to recover before you start your thing again.”

“…my thing?”

She shrugs, apparently unconcerned by his tone. “Whatever it is that you’re doing. He’s sick — can’t you just let him be so he can rest?”

“I’m planning to make sure my best friend is comfortable,” he replies, growing louder in spite of himself. “Rework your scheduling again, because I’m no longer available today.”

He fumes all the way to Link’s house, occasionally muttering better comebacks and rejoinders as they occur to him. It’s absolutely none of Stevie’s business. He doesn’t answer to her. By the time he parks in Link’s driveway he’s worked himself into something of a state and is forced to take a few minutes to calm down before letting himself into the house.

It’s the second occasion he’s used his key in the space of just a few weeks, and the act doesn’t trouble him nearly as much this time. He shuts off the security system on his first try and calls Link’s name into the silent house before climbing the stairs to his bedroom.

Link is exactly where Rhett expects to find him, curled up in a nest of blankets in the middle of his bed. He appears to be sound asleep, but stirs in alarm when Rhett looms in the doorway. 

“Who-wha?”

“It’s me,” Rhett says, approaching slowly. “How’re you doing, buddy?”

“Sick,” Link croaks. “Cold probably. Maybe the flu. You shouldn’t be here, I’m gonna infect you.”

That thought had occurred to him more than once, but he battled back his hypochondriac tendencies because what better way to prove his devotion than to risk contamination? “I’ll be fine,” he says, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “Strong immune system. So you got a fever or what?”

“Naw,” Link says, pausing to cough. “Just a sore throat, headache, chills, body aches, and I’m so tired I feel like I could sleep for a thousand years.”

“That would be pretty inconvenient,” Rhett says, reaching over to press a hand against Link’s forehead. His skin is slightly damp, and he’s far warmer than Rhett expected. “Sounds like the flu.”

“Maybe,” Link says. “Can you get me some water before you go?” 

Rhett takes a look at the bedside table, which is littered with a nearly empty bottle of cold medication, a box of tissues, and a mostly-drained glass of water. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says. “But I’ll be right back with your water.”

After adjusting Link’s blankets, Rhett takes the glass down to the kitchen and fills it before calling Josh. It takes several attempts before Josh finally answers, sounding a touch out of breath. “What’s up?”

“Hey. I take it you know Link is out sick today?”

“Yup, saw the email. Hope he feels better soon.”

“Actually, I could use some help. Would you mind bringing some fresh orange juice to Link’s place? And maybe some chicken soup.”

There’s a longish pause before Josh agrees. Rhett provides him with the address and ends the call as he returns upstairs with Link’s water.

Link has kicked the blankets to the floor again and is tossing about on the bed, his face both pale and blotchy. “Why can’t we go home,” he mutters into his pillow. “…far from here. By dark if we… they won’t… and…”

“Hey.” Rhett touches his shoulder. “Brought your water. I’m gonna go investigate your medicine cabinet and see what you’ve got.”

Link’s medicine cabinet is just as ridiculous as he figured it would be. It’s immaculate, perfectly organized, and every single bottle is well before its expiration date. He easily locates the thermometer, Tylenol, Advil, and throat lozenges before returning to Link’s bed with his hands full of supplies. “Okay,” he announces. “Wakey-wakey. Sit up a little for me.”

With Rhett’s help, Link props himself into a half-seated position against his pillows. Rhett starts with the thermometer, and isn’t surprised when it reads 101.7. “Tylenol it is,” he announces, pouring pills into the palm of his hand and passing Link the water. “Down the hatch.”

Link grimaces when it takes him several tries to swallow. “That tastes terrible,” he says. “Metallic, or something.”

“Yeah,” Rhett agrees. “Water tastes off when you’re sick. I’ll get you some juice soon, and that should be better. Anything else you need right now?”

Link clunks the water glass down and flips over on his side. “Lay down with me until I get back to sleep,” he says. “It’s only fair. You woke me up.”

He’s gonna catch this bug for sure, but Rhett isn’t about to pass up the opportunity. He kicks off his shoes and climbs in behind Link, carefully positioning himself as the big spoon. “You’re really hot,” he notes as he wraps an arm around Link’s midsection. 

“Sure am.”

“Should I crank the AC?”

“No, I mean I’m… oh, nevermind.” He shoves a pillow under his cheek and presses back into the warmth of Rhett’s body. “Sing me a lullaby or somethin’.”

“God, you’re demanding.” Rhett hums a few bars before launching into his best imitation of a tune his grandmother used to sing for him when he was little. He can’t remember all the words, but Link doesn’t seem to mind, and within moments he grows heavy in Rhett’s arms. 

Once Link’s breathing turns steady and even, Rhett slips away.

—

He waits on the porch until Josh arrives, red-faced and frazzled. Rhett greets him as he exits the car and helps with the various bags and appliances crammed into the trunk.

“So I made the orange juice pretty quick, but soup is another matter,” he relays as they transport groceries into the kitchen. “That really needs to simmer for a while, so I brought the ingredients and can get it going. You’ll have to keep an eye on it after I leave, unless you need it immediately…”

“Definitely not.” Rhett strokes his hands over Link’s spotless kitchen counter, frowning. “He’s sleeping. What do you think about a temperature that’s just short of 102?”

“Not nearly warm enough for soup.”

“I mean, for a person. A person that’s sick.”

Josh has started chopping a pile of vegetables, working with speed and confidence. “I don’t actually know much about that,” he says. “Doesn’t sound too high, though. Once I had a temperature of 107, and my dad just scoffed and told me to rub some dirt on it.”

“What? Really?”

Josh looks up with a grin. “Not really. I’m lying. I’d say, just keep on eye on his temp and if it rises too quickly, give him a quick baste and lower your oven to—”

“I’m being serious here.”

Josh immediately sobers. “It sounds like he needs fluids and sleep,” he says. “Fever’s no big deal. It means his body is fighting, which is what you want. Have him drink the OJ I brought; it’s infused with ginger, which is great for the immune system. And this soup, too. It’s not just an old wives’ tale; chicken soup has actual medicinal qualities, especially the way I make it.”

Rhett falls silent, watching Josh work and admiring his speed. Within minutes, the vegetables are diced and sauteed and he’s pouring pre-made stock into the soup pot. “Let me know when you reach a stopping point,” he says eventually.

“Sure.” Josh fishes various prepped ingredients from his bags, including a plastic container of diced chicken. “There’s not much to this, really. I could teach you if you wanted. So what else did you need before I get back to the studio? I get that this is important, but Stevie asked me to return as soon as possible, so…”

Rhett fights back a flash of anger. “You work for me, not her,” he says, his voice tight. “If there’s an issue, tell her to call me.”

Josh goes silent as he tastes the broth and adjusts the seasoning.

“I just want you to take a look at Link when I bring him your juice,” he says, forcing his voice back into a congenial tone. “I want a second opinion, because I’m wondering if maybe I should take him to the clinic. What if it isn’t a cold?” He frowns, his hands tensing against the counter. “What if it’s worse than the flu? Could be something serious, like meningitis. I’ve heard about people coming down with meningitis and thinking it was just the flu until it was too late.”

“Have you googled the symptoms of that?” Josh is shaking his head before he finishes the question. “Actually no, strike that. The internet will tell you it’s something horrible, when the odds are like ninety-five percent that he’s just got a cold.”

Rhett grinds the palms of his hands against the counter.

“Well,” Josh says eventually. “This broth needs to come to a boil before we lower it to a simmer, so now’s as good a time as any.” An uneasy expression crosses his face. “He’s, uh, fully dressed and everything, right? Because this is already awkward enough, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“Maybe not fully dressed, but I’ll make sure he’s covered.” He waits while Josh fills a glass with juice before leading the way upstairs. “I’m mostly worried right now because I thought he might have a rash or something on his neck. That’s a symptom, right?”

Josh shrugs. “Sure, could be. But you should know, I’m a chef, not a medic.”

Rhett takes a quick peek inside and is relieved to find Link still covered by his multitude of blankets. “All clear,” he whispers, taking the juice and setting it on the bedside table. “See, he’s awfully flushed. Is that normal for a low-level fever? Or do you think it’s some sorta rash?”

Link stirs within his blanket nest and blinks at him. “Who-wha?”

“Just me,” Rhett assures him.

“And me,” Josh announces from over his shoulder, his voice entirely too loud.

“What?” Link is immediately both awake and alarmed. “Who’s that, and why are they in our bedroom?”

Rhett gives Josh a wide-eyed look of irritation before turning his attention to Link. “It’s okay, baby,” he says soothingly. “It’s just Josh, and he brought you some OJ. Uh, fresh squeezed. You wanna give it a try?”

Link sinks back into his blankets and shakes his head. “Wanna sleep.”

Josh has already backed his way to the doorway, looking embarrassed. “Just let him sleep,” he says. “And if he suddenly gets worse or his fever spikes, call the nurses’ line.”

Rhett studies Link’s fever-flushed face before nodding in agreement. 

\--

After spending a little longer tending to the soup, Josh looks up at him with a deep frown. “Um. So, it’s ‘our’ bedroom?”

“’Ours’ as in his, but most things with us are ‘we.’ It’s a habit.”

Josh doesn’t roll his eyes at him, but it’s a close thing. “Oh, that makes sense. Okay then. So what you do to finish this soup once you want to serve it…” He rattles on for a while, but comes to a stop mid-sentence and laughs. “You know what, never mind. I’ll text you the rest of the instructions. The important part is not to cook too many noodles at once, otherwise they get soggy and soak up all the broth, and that’s the best part.”

“Got it.”

“Alrighty then. I’m gonna get back to work before Stevie starts blowing up my phone.” He gives Rhett a wide, sunny grin on his way out. “Good luck, ‘baby.’”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be away for a few days to concentrate on holiday stuff, but will return to post the next chapter this weekend. Happy holidays to everyone who is celebrating!


	6. Chapter 6

Rhett grumbles and fumes, but ultimately he has to admit: he brought that on himself.

He selects a book from Link’s extensive collection and takes a seat in the arm chair by Link’s bedroom window. Link sleeps steadily through the day, waking only to drink a little juice and take more medication when prompted. Rhett checks his temperature twice more, but it holds steady after dropping a little. By mid-afternoon, he’s feeling more than a little embarrassed over his worries. 

But still. It’s Link. Surely he’s entitled to over-react a little when it comes to Link?

Eventually Link stirs to full wakefulness to finish his glass of juice and blink blearily at Rhett. “Hey,” he says, his voice a little scratchy. “Did I smell something cooking earlier, or was I dreaming?”

“Chicken noodle soup,” Rhett confirms. “I can have it ready in twenty minutes if you’re hungry?”

Link takes a moment to consider before nodding. “I think I’m hungry,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Gonna take a shower first, though. I feel gross.”

“Want help?”

Link looks up at him with wide eyes. “Uh, no. I’m not that sick, and it’s not gonna be that sorta shower.”

Rhett helps him to the bathroom regardless, enduring Link’s grumbles with the certain knowledge that his efforts are secretly appreciated. Not even that secretly, either. Link’s eyes take on a shine as Rhett assists him in removing his clothes and adjusts the shower’s temperature until the water runs blood-warm. 

“Okay, you get clean. I’ll finish the soup.”

“What, no kiss?”

When he turns back, Link is holding onto the sink and offering his lips in an exaggerated pucker. It’s tempting, but…

Link gives a hoarse laugh and steps into the shower. “Go finish my soup,” he calls as he closes the glass door behind him. 

—

Rhett does as asked, finishing Josh’s efforts with a minimum amount of fuss and without setting anything on fire. When Link finally appears, freshly showered and clad in cozy-looking pajamas, he has the table set with two steaming bowls of soup and a fresh glass of juice for Link.

“This looks great,” Link says, dropping into his chair and setting his phone face-down on the table beside him. 

“It’s ninety percent Josh, ten percent me,” Rhett admits, frowning as he stirs the rich-looking broth. “Well, unless you count me coercing Josh over here to make it. Then it’s ninety percent me.”

Link laughs as he spoons up a noodle. “Poor Josh. I’m pretty sure cooking for me on my off-days isn’t in his job description.”

Rhett shrugs. “Okay then, I get five percent credit for the soup.” He watches while Link blows across his spoon. “Unless it’s gross. Then I take one-point-five percent credit and toss the rest to Josh.”

“What are you playing for, anyway?” Link swallows the mouthful and nods approvingly. “I can’t really taste much, but it seems healthy. Good job adding the parsley at the end.”

Rhett beams. “Same thing I’m always playing for,” he begins, but he’s interrupted by a buzz from the table.

Link instantly picks up his phone and reads the message with a smile. He takes a few more bites of his soup before responding with what strikes Rhett as an excessively long reply for someone who’s sick.

“That’s not Stevie buggin’ you, is it?”

“Naw.” Link types a little more before hitting send and returning to his juice. “This is really good. What did you say was in it besides oranges? Ginger?”

“Yeah, ginger. Supposed to be good for fighting off germs or lowering fever or something.” Rhett’s frown deepens when Link’s phone immediately buzzes again. “Emergency somewhere?”

Link reads the screen and shakes his head. “Naw. Just Alex checking on me.” He taps out a much shorter reply this time, but the tight knot of displeasure has returned to Rhett’s belly. He pushes the rest of his soup aside and nudges back his chair.

“You want him to come over? I can head home if you want.”

His face must be doing something that he’s not aware of, because Link’s expression shifts into a mixture of amusement and sympathy. “Rhett, he doesn’t even have my address. And I don’t want you to leave. Unless you want to go?”

“’Course not.” Affecting a scowl, he turns his attention to Link’s soup. “Finish that, would you? I was promised it has medicinal qualities, and I need you back at the desk soon as possible.”

Link rolls his eyes, but finishes almost half the bowl before he’s coughing and drooping in his seat. Rhett helps him back to bed and slides back into his role as big spoon, feeling warm and content.

—

It wasn’t part of his plan. It just sort of happens.

He winds up staying at Link’s house for the duration of Link’s illness. It makes sense. Someone needs to make sure he’s taking his medication on schedule and pushing fluids, monitoring his temperature and changing his sheets so he’s not sleeping in fever-sweat. Rhett makes a few trips back and forth between his house and Link’s while Link sleeps, bringing over clothes, his favorite pillow, a few books, and his laptop. He returns later for more essentials, including bags of dried beans, his workout attire, and some records that Link’s collection doesn’t include.

It also makes sense for him to stay once Link’s fever breaks and his strength returns. He’s doing a lot better, but Link behind the wheel of a car is hazardous enough when he’s at his best. Rhett isn’t willing to chance it while he’s recovering, especially after long work days that cram in as many shoots, meetings, and planning sessions as possible. Link is pale and exhausted by the end of the week, so it’s fortunate Rhett is around to look after him.

But eventually, Link recovers — in no small part due to Rhett’s efforts, Link assures him during a careful conversation. 

“Really glad to hear you’re better,” Rhett replies, gathering up their dinner plates and giving everything a good rinse in the sink. He takes his time, making sure things are done according to Link’s standards, or at least as close as he can come to meeting them.

“So I was thinking…” Link pauses and clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable.

“Me too.” Rhett towels off his hands and turns around with a smile. “It’s been way too long since I sucked you off. Been on my to-do list for ages, but I didn’t figure you’d appreciate the offer while you were fighting the flu.”

Link opens his mouth as if to object, but Rhett moves quickly. He’s worked Links pants down to his ankles and is on his knees before Link can formulate his next words, and begins kissing his still-soft cock while palming his balls. 

“Rhett—” Link’s voice comes out breathy and shaky as he hardens beneath Rhett’s tongue, and Rhett draws him into his mouth to roll his tongue around the velvety head a few times. Link shudders, his hands weaving their way into Rhett’s hair. 

He flicks his tongue over the tip a few times before drawing Link in deeply, increasing the suction by incremental degrees. Both hands move to curl around Link’s hips, encouraging him to set the pace, and Link responds with a high whimper and frantic thrusts. It only takes a few minutes before his thighs are shaking and he’s keening Rhett’s name as he comes.

It’s definitely been too long.

“Sorry you had to wait for that,” Rhett says as he slides up Link’s body to gather him close. Link shivers against him, returning his kisses and making soft noises in the back of his throat as he settles through the aftershocks.

“No,” he says eventually. “That was amazing, but what I was going to say was—”

Rhett takes one of his hands and places it against his cock, firmly and effectively derailing the rest of the conversation.

—

He’s minding his own business when he strays past Stevie’s office and catches the argument between her and Link in progress.

“…just tell him to go! Leave here early, pack his stuff, and have it waiting by the door. Don’t argue, just tell him that while you appreciate everything he’s done for you, it’s time for him to go home. Doesn’t he have plants to water or something?”

“I know, I know, but it’s so nice having him with me. Don’t look at me like that — it’s not just sex. We watch movies and play games and talk and—”

“Well of course you do. He knows he almost lost you, and now he’s trying to reel you back in. It always goes like this. You’re so happy at first, and your hopes are so high, and then something happens and it all goes to hell.”

“You don’t think people can change?”

“At his age? I wouldn’t count on it.”

Rhett flinches, but he manages to stay silent.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” 

Link sounds so miserable that Stevie gentles her tone. “Maybe I’m wrong,” she says. “I just don’t want to see you crushed again.”

There’s a long span of silence. Rhett does his best to fight back images of Stevie hugging him, comforting him, petting his hair. Because that’s _his_ job, and no one should usurp that, even when he’s cowering in the hallway, eavesdropping like a coward. 

“You don’t know how hard this is,” Link says at last, his voice small and sad.

“That’s because you’re thinking with your dick,” she returns, but this time Link’s reply is almost instant. 

“No. This is my heart.”

Stevie’s response is pure frustration. “Well then, I _wish_ it was your dick. Because at least he’s motivated to take good care of that.”

Link’s silence is so filled with hurt that Rhett has to physically restrain himself from slamming into her office and stating his piece — but he’s not sure what he would say. Something that would make things worse, probably. So he presses a hand against the wall and leans into his arm, his heart aching as he waits for Link to speak again.

Instead, it’s Stevie who eventually breaks the silence. “Are you sure you want to go through this again?”

“I’m already in,” Link replies at last, his voice thin and strained. “I’m sorry I’m disappointing you. I’m just not ready to give up yet, no matter how stupid I’m being.”

“Pretty damn stupid,” Stevie says, but the heat is gone from her voice and they’re sniffling together. 

Rhett decides that it’s time to clear out, and it isn’t until he reaches the hallway’s end before he can breathe again. He leans against the far wall and forces in a few long, shuddering breaths as he attempts to pull himself together.

—

He continues with the plan, and it continues going well. Their home life isn’t perfect, but ironically, it isn’t until they start bickering and snapping at each other that Link finally seems to relax. Rhett on his best behavior must seem like a mirage; Rhett who goads, needles, and intentionally annoys him is clearly the person Link is comfortable with. That turns out to be a good thing, because Rhett has serious doubts about how long he can play the perfect partner.

After the first serious argument of the newest stage of their relationship, Link shoves him against the back of the couch and unfastens his pants. “Let’s go,” he demands, his eyes still bright with anger over their squabble. 

Rhett frowns, momentarily confused. “Wouldn’t you rather just hit me?”

Link’s laughter is mirthless. “Rhett, if I were the sorta person who went around hitting people, we’d both be in big trouble. And no. I don’t wanna hit you. I wanna fuck you until you scream and then apologize for being such a dick to me all the time.”

Not many ways he can respond to that. “Oh,” is what he settles on, and Link replies with the same humorless chuckle. He seems ready to say more, most likely something that’s gonna have them yelling at each other again, and Rhett wants no more of that. So he reaches into the coffee table drawer and retrieves the bottle of lube. After a moment’s hesitation, he passes it into Link’s custody. 

After locking his gaze against Link’s blazing eyes, he drops his pants to the floor and kicks them aside. 

“On the couch,” Link instructs him. “Brace yourself against the back cushions.”

When Rhett follows his instructions, he knocks his legs further apart with a faint sound of frustration. “I expect you to cooperate, here,” he says.

“I’m gonna,” Rhett promises, but he can’t help the coil of unease that twists in his gut. They don’t do this often, and when they do, he’s rarely in this position. He likes being the one in control, setting the stage and running the show. He’s never quite comfortable when they switch things up, but it’s clear from everything in Link’s face and demeanor that this is what he needs right now.

“Don’t worry,” Link says, running a soothing hand down the length of his back. “I’ll be careful. But I need you to do as I say.”

Rhett nods, wrapping his forearms around the back of the couch and pressing his torso more firmly against the cushions. His legs are slightly too far apart for his comfort, but he stays where Link put him.

“Lean forward, and arch your back a little.”

He complies, and is rewarded by Link’s hand on the small of his back, rubbing circles there before pulling back. A moment later he feels a lubed finger running up and down his crack, and he gives a long, involuntary shudder.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” Link whispers. “Try’n relax.”

Rhett sucks in a breath, intentionally tightens all of his muscles, then forces them to relax as he slowly breathes out. He repeats the process once more, and again.

“Good,” Link says, one finger resting against his hole and warming there. “You’re doing really good. And I’m not mad anymore, Rhett.”

“That’s good,” he breathes, because the last thing he wants is a hate-fucking session. It’s hard enough submitting to Link’s instructions as it is. When the finger at his hole pushes past the tense ring of muscle, he releases an uneasy groan that makes Link still his motions for a moment. Once he’s had a chance to relax, the finger pushes inward, millimeter by millimeter, and once he’s in up to his knuckle, Rhett’s instinct to push back fades.

“That good?”

“Yeah.” His voice comes out low and breathy. 

Link squirts additional lube into his hand before carefully working another finger inside, and then another. By then Rhett has relaxed enough to thrust back against the intrusion, murmuring but not quite vocalizing his desire.

“Not yet,” Link tells him, fingers moving and stretching while Rhett squirms under his care. After what feels like a lifetime, the fingers are withdrawn and Link’s cock presses lightly against his opening. Before he presses inside, his hand slips between Rhett’s belly and the couch, taking his length firmly in hand. “Don’t come before I do,” he commands, and slowly pushes his way inside.

Rhett gasps, arching his back again. The fingers should have prepared him, but they never do. Nothing else is comparable to the feeling of Link’s cock filling him, the connection and intimacy translated into physical form. He readies himself for Link to begin thrusting, but again he’s forced to wait. Instead a lubed hand works at his cock, leaving him painfully hard and panting. “Please,” he whimpers. He didn’t intend to say anything at all, but the word escapes from his lips.

“I like it when you ask nicely,” Link whispers, leaning forward to string a line of kisses down his spine before he begins rolling his hips forward. Rhett groans with escalating pleasure as Link’s cock makes contact with exactly the right spot. “But… remember.”

Rhett grinds back against each thrust, furrowing his brow and concentrating. It’s not easy, not with Link expertly striking his prostate with each thrust and his hand working up and down his leaking cock, but he’s determined to… to do something.

“Rhett,” Link whimpers as Rhett tightens around him. His free hand digs into Rhett’s shoulder hard enough to leave marks, and the hand on his cock both loosens and speeds up, fingers pulling over his head in exactly the way that drives Rhett crazy. He isn’t going to last much longer, but he has to. His head drops against the couch cushions and he fights against the inevitable with everything that he has.

Breath held. Arms shaking. Thighs quivering. Link continues to pound into him, the sounds pouring from his throat coming louder and higher with each thrust. “Almost there, baby,” he pants. “Just a few more. Just a little—” He gives a few more shuddering, frantic thrusts and then finally he’s crying Rhett’s name, both hands on Rhett’s cock.

He manages to last a second or two longer than Link before releasing a long groan of relief and coming all over Link’s hand, the back of the couch, and his own chest. “Oh, god,” he says once he’s able to speak again, collapsing into the mess and breathing hard.

“Yeah,” Link agrees, sliding out and wrapping his arms around him as they stretch out onto the couch, chests heaving. Link holds him from behind, kissing sweaty skin and stroking his fingers over his belly, mindless of the mess. “You okay?”

“Definitely okay,” Rhett says, closing his eyes and relaxing into the warmth of Link’s body. “I’d kiss you, but then I’d have to move. Can’t.”

Link laughs. “That’s okay. Go to sleep. You can kiss me all you like when you wake up.”

Or at least that’s what he thinks Link says. He’s not certain, because he’s almost certainly already asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

The following afternoon -- or maybe a day or two later, it all begins to slide together — Josh arrives in their office with a tray and a smile. “Ice cream delivery,” he announces.

They both look up at the same time, confused.

“For what?” Rhett frowns as he studies the tray’s contents.

Josh’s smile fades by incremental degrees. “It’s what you asked me to make. You know. Peanut butter treats? Ice cream in particular. I included the chocolate swirls and a crunchy peanut butter topping, too.” He tips his head toward an airy-looking spun-sugar decoration that’s fit for the cameras.

“I ordered ice cream?”

“It was either you or some other 6’7 bearded guy.” The remains of Josh’s smile waver before sliding away entirely. His eyes skip back and forth between Rhett and Link, searching for clues but apparently coming up empty. “I can take it away if you changed your mind. One good thing about working here, there’s always plenty of people willing to eat my mistakes.”

“Not necessary,” Link responds, turning away from his laptop and smiling. “It sounds amazing. You wanna stay and share it with us?”

“No thanks.” Josh deposits the tray on their desk and glances between them again. “Well, um. Enjoy.” He takes a few steps backwards before turning to flee.

“Huh,” Link says, watching his hasty departure. “Well, I’m not gonna argue against ice cream. You don’t remember asking him to make this?”

Rhett’s eyes fix on Josh’s creation. “Loaded with sugar and fat,” he mutters, but cuts the lecture short when he catches a glimpse of Link's expression.

Link reaches for a spoon, which he holds for a moment before handing to Rhett. “You wanna feed it to me?” 

Rhett frowns, puzzled by the challenge in Link’s tone. “Sure? Why not.” He digs into the dish until he reaches the ice cream and spoons up a large bite. “Open big.” He manages to get the full amount into Link’s mouth without making a mess.

“It’s good,” Link says after swallowing, his eyes still on Rhett’s face with an odd, searching expression. “Go ahead and try.”

Rhett shakes his head. “I’m not hungry.”

Link studies his face in silence for another moment. “Then feed me more.”

Rhett dips into the whipped cream and hands it over to Link. “I need to finish up what I was doing,” he says. “Gotta leave soon.”

Link licks the spoon with his eyes fixed on Rhett’s face. “What do you mean, you need to leave soon?”

Rhett edges back, frowning. “It means I need to leave this place, and go somewhere else. A little earlier than usual. In just a few minutes, actually. I think you can feed yourself the ice cream, buddy. Glad you’re enjoying it, though.”

Link sets down the spoon with a soft thunk. “Oh, it’s ‘buddy’ now?”

Rhett stares at him, baffled. “Okay — bo, then. Or whatever you’d like me to call you.”

Link’s posture is suddenly a portrait in tension, and his fingers go white as they grip the edge of the desk. “Doesn’t matter what I want,” he replies. “The interesting thing is what you do on your own.”

It’s all Rhett can do not to roll his eyes. “I got no clue why you’re trying to start a fight over nothing,” he says. “Eat your ice cream. I gotta go.”

Link’s face is as still as his body. “Where are you going?”

“To _therapy_ , if you gotta know. A thing I thought you approved of?”

“Sure,” Link agrees, his tone acidic. “I approve of it. Except that you’re my ride home.”

“I am?”

Link slams a hand against the tray, causing the contents to jump and the spun-sugar topper to shatter. “You are,” he says. “How could you forget that?”

Rhett shrugs. “I dunno. Stress, I guess. Can’t imagine what around here would be causing _that_.” He eyes Link for an irritated moment before continuing. “I’ll take you home first, or come back to get you after. Your choice.”

Link gives a slow, stiff shake of his head. “I just wanted to know what you’d choose.”

“Oh for god’s sake,” Rhett says, his voice and tone rising, but Link is already on his feet and storming toward the door. 

“Don’t worry about me,” he calls on his way out. “I’ll have Alex drive me.”

—

He’s in a foul mood by the time he arrives at Mark’s office. He stomps over to the couch and flops into the unreasonably soft cushions, which only serve to increase his irritation.

“Good to see you again, Rhett,” Mark greets him. “You seem a lot less happy than you did the last time we met. What’s going on?”

Rhett sits and fumes for a minute or two before answering. “It’s Link, as usual. He’s all pissed off at me again.”

“Oh?” Mark’s brows edge upwards. “Why’s that?”

“Who the hell knows?” Rhett adjusts the cushion behind his back, trying to find a position with the correct level of support. “He’s moody. He got into one of his moods over nothing, blew up when I forgot I was supposed to drive him home, then went storming off to find Alex.”

“Alex?” Mark cocks his head and waits.

“Alex,” Rhett confirms. “They’re probably bitching about me right now. I’m sure Alex is just thrilled with this situation, Link all to himself with me not even in the building. Any chance he gets, he snatches. Speaking of which, I’ve been meaning to ask you about this but keep forgetting: what’s the worst that could happen if I fired him?”

Mark’s confused expression morphs into concern. “Rhett,” he says carefully. “I don’t know who you’re talking about. You’ve never even mentioned anyone named ‘Alex’ to me before. I take it he’s one of your employees?”

“The worst one,” Rhett grouses. “The one who acts like we hired him specifically to fawn over Link. The problem is, he’s good at his job and doesn’t make mistakes and everyone likes him. Even so, I could fire him if I wanted to, right?”

“I don’t know; I’m not an employment lawyer.” Mark frowns. “How do you think Link would react if you were to fire this employee?”

Rhett laughs humorlessly. “He’d flip his lid. And hire him right back. So as you can see, I’m stuck.”

“I do see.” Mark continues to frown. “It seems you have your answer, though. Getting back to Link himself—”

“He’s impossible. Eating ice cream one moment, yelling at me the next. What do you even do with a person like that?”

“What did _you_ do?”

Rhett sighs. “I let him go storming off. Didn’t try to stop him or pin him to a wall or anything like that this time, so… that’s good, right? Progress.”

Mark’s expression doesn’t shift out of neutral-concerned. “You don’t have any idea what made him angry?”

“Nope. None.”

“That’s interesting. You’ve known him for thirty years, you’ve barely had any space between you in your adult lives, but you don’t have any idea what could have started the argument?”

Rhett shakes his head. “I’m no mind-reader. And even if I were, Link’s mind wouldn’t be the easiest to read. All I can tell you is that one minute I was feeding him ice cream, the next I was telling him that I had to go, and then suddenly he’s furious.”

“Okay then,” Mark prompts patiently. “What happened before that? The previous evening, perhaps? Did something go wrong?”

“Nope. Everything was fine. I grilled us some steaks, we did the usual stuff… nothing out of the ordinary at all.”

Mark studies his face. “Was the sex okay?”

“…what?”

“The sex? If not last night, then the most recent time you’ve been intimate?”

Rhett rubs at the space between his eyes, fighting back an odd, cloudy feeling that’s building in his mind. “I’m sure it was fine. Sex has never been a problem for us.”

“Ah, that’s right. I recall you saying that before. It’s the other parts that present a problem, right?” He flips through his journal, frowning until he finds the right page. “Here are we. The ‘love part of things’, you said. So how’s that been going?”

Rhett stares at him. “I said that?”

“You definitely did.”

“Huh.” He shifts around in another vain attempt to get comfortable, but when he can’t even find a bearable position, he rises to his feet. “I’m sorry. I need to go home and take a shower, my back is killing me.”

“Rhett. I think this might be important.”

His temper flares. “The fact that I’m in pain is important, too! I can’t talk when I’m hurting. I can’t even think. I’ll... I’ll be back next week.”

He’s out the door before Mark can deliver another objection, auto-navigating to his car before allowing muscle memory to guide him home.

—

He spends almost an hour in the shower, allowing the pulsing heat to massage the aching parts of his back and lull him into a trance-like state. By the time he emerges, he’s feeling almost okay again — a little sore, a bit fuzzy around the edges, but ready to order delivery and settle down in front of the television before bed.

He’s just made himself comfortable on the couch when his phone starts pinging. He tries to ignore it, but it nags for attention over and over until he finally pauses his garbage reality show to find out what the emergency is.

Six messages from Link, two from Stevie, and one from Alex.

He grimaces and flips his phone over, ignoring it until his dinner arrives and he’s had a chance to take a few bites. He watches a little more of his show, because he’s not a slave to an electronic leash, but finally curiosity gets the better of him. 

Alex: Hey, not sure if Link’s messages are getting through or not, so if you see this please call him k thx.

Fuming, Rhett deletes it.

Levine: If you get this message, please call or text.  
Levine: Rhett, are you home?

Both of those go straight into the trash as well.

Link: Rhett, where are you?   
Link: Is your appointment running long?  
Link: Seriously, I’m starting to get worried, please let me know you’re okay.  
Link: You’re not really doing this again, are you?  
Link: I can’t believe this.  
Link: If you don’t come home tonight, we’re done. For good. I mean it.

Rhett stares at the messages in confusion before returning Link’s most recent call.

Link picks up instantly.

“Where are you? Is everything okay? Listen, I’m sorry about the messages, I was going a little crazy. Are you on your way?”

“On my way?” Rhett digs his fingers against his forehead. “No, I’m at home, and headed to bed soon. It’s been a long day. Did you need something?”

There’s a long, long stretch of silence before Link replies. “So… you’ve moved out?”

“What? Of course not. I wouldn’t move anywhere without talking to you about it.”

“But you’re…” There’s a long pause and then a distinct change in Link’s tone. “Oh. So this is exactly what I figured it was. You’re doing it again.”

“Doing… what?”

“Pretending the last month didn’t happen. Pretending you didn’t move in with me. Pretending we’re just friends and co-workers because you got scared and freaked out.” He draws in a shaky breath. “I’m such an idiot for getting sucked back into this and thinking it might be different this time. God, what’s wrong with me?”

“Link, I don’t know what you’re talking about. You want me to come over? I’ll get dressed and come over.”

Link’s laughter is sharp and bitter. “Are you kidding me?”

“Are you sick again? I knew I shoulda taken you to the doctor.”

“Rhett, I’m hanging up now.”

And he does.


	8. Chapter 8

Even when you co-own the company, work is terribly lonely when no one is speaking to you.

Link takes his laptop and works in whatever room is unoccupied during the few short hours he’s around. Rhett spies him in the conference room, at the back of Stevie’s office, and once hovering over the Mythical Kitchen countertop, but he resists the temptation to approach him. Nothing about Link’s expression or posture suggests he’d be receptive to any sort of contact, anyhow.

Stevie issues a temporary hiatus on filming without any sort of explanation, but when not a single person questions the decision it becomes clear that there’s been plenty of talk. That’s not a great feeling. Even less pleasant are rooms that fall silent when he passes by or the icy coldness that seems to emanate from the core of Stevie’s being when he goes anywhere near her.

The only person who displays any compassion towards him is Josh, who occasionally brings him lunch and once offers a stiff-handed pat on the shoulder during an especially bad day. Rhett is grateful, but says nothing.

On the third day (or maybe the fourth? Time functions strangely lately) of his excommunication from Link’s good graces, Rhett develops a terrible headache and decides to nap in their office. When he wakes a few hours (or maybe days?) later, he finds Link and Alex hauling a stack of cardboard boxes in through the door. It doesn’t make any sense, not even when he sits up and forces his eyes to focus.

“What’s going on?” he asks eventually, the words coming out strange and scratchy.

“Nothing.” Link’s voice is flat. “Just returning your things.”

The nap didn’t do much to alleviate his headache. “Things? What things?”

“The stuff you left at my house.” Link drops a paper bag on top of a box with an air of finality while Alex moves towards the door.

“You mean like DVDs?”

“Yeah, your DVDs are in there. And your records. And your clothes, bathroom stuff, kitchen stuff, twelve sacks of beans, and everything else I could find. If I missed anything, let me know and I’ll bring it tomorrow.”

Rhett rubs at his temples, which have started pounding in time with his heartbeat. _I don’t understand_ , he starts to say, but the words refuse to dislodge. It’s a curious sensation, he notices dimly. Like being on the spinning ride at the county fair and unable to lift your arms.

Alex is speaking, and his voice seems far too loud considering that he’s almost out the door. “Hey Rhett? Are you okay?”

This time, after a moment of struggle, he manages to speak. “Yeah? Yeah. Just a headache. Guess I fell asleep.” He re-focuses his eyes and finds a stack of boxes in the middle of the room. “What are those?”

“I just told you,” Link replies, sounding concerned. “That’s your stuff.”

“Did I order something?” He closes his eyes to make the room stop pulsing at the edges, and when he opens them again both Link and Alex are inches from his face, wearing identical worried expressions.

“His eyes don’t look right,” Alex is saying as a hand is shoved practically into his nose. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Rhett pushes them back and takes a wild guess. “Eight?”

“Rhett, he’s only holding up one hand.”

“Huh.” He closes his eyes again. 

“Rhett.” Link’s voice is insistent, and his hand is shaking his arm. “Please wake up. You’re not acting right, and we’re trying to decide what to do.”

“How about let me sleep?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Link gives him another, more insistent shake. “We’re gonna take you to urgent care and get you assessed. If you can walk. Do you think you can walk?”

Rhett groans in annoyance. “Course I can walk. I’m just tired. If you’d let me sleep, I’d be fine.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Alex tells Link, and for some reason Rhett can’t quite make out Link’s response. A moment later the two of them are tugging him to his feet. They lead him through the building and then — cruelly — into the blindingly bright California afternoon.

—

When he wakes again, he’s on his back in an exam room. Link is seated in a nearby chair, holding his hand, and a medical professional of some sort is asking him questions. “I’m sorry,” he manages. “Gosh. My head hurts. What was the question again?”

“I asked if you know where you are,” the woman repeats.

“Yeah.” He glances around the room, his eyes lingering over Link’s worried face. “I’m at the hospital.”

“Do you know why?”

He frowns. “Because I couldn’t count the fingers?”

She nods, as if this were a perfectly acceptable answer. “Okay. I need you to sit tight for a while longer. I have you scheduled for an MRI, and—”

He looks to Link in alarm. “Am I hurt?” He doesn’t feel hurt. He feels fine, just a little fuzzy around the edges, like he’s just woken from an exceptionally long nap.

“You’re fine,” Link soothes, standing up so he can rub Rhett’s back. “It’s just a precaution. Just to be sure. Besides, we’ve been curious for a long time about what’s going on inside that head of yours.”

He’s doing his best to sound lighthearted, but Rhett can hear the strain behind his words. But no matter — it feels so good to have Link close to him again that he decides it doesn’t matter. He’s fine, Link is fine, and they’ll be headed home soon. He leans against Link’s chest and drifts off again.

—

When he wakes, he’s in a hospital bed in a quiet room. At first he thinks he’s alone, but a second glance finds Link drowsing in a nearby chair.

“Wakey-wakey,” he says quietly, and Link stirs back to life.

“I’m here, I’m awake,” he says, sounding more like he’s trying to convince himself than Rhett. “How’re you feeling?”

“Completely fine.” Rhett looks down at himself, puzzled. “How did I get here? Were we in an accident?”

“No.” Link slides his chair closer. “You were behaving a little strangely, and had what the intake nurse called an ‘altered state of consciousness’, so they ran a bunch of tests to make sure you’re okay.”

“Okay.” Rhett frowns while he processes that. “Am I?”

“According to the tests, you’re fine. No drugs in your system, no signs of stroke, no bleeding in your brain or damaged brain cells…” He trails off with a shrug. “They’re gonna do more tests, but it’s all stuff you can do as an outpatient. They just wanted to keep you a few more hours before sending you home.” He pauses. “You should also know that you told them I’m your partner.”

Rhett cocks his head to one side. “Of course I did. What else would I tell them?”

“I don’t know.” Link scrubs a hand over his face. “I never know. And I’m not sure which one of us is crazy.”

Rhett fumbles around until he manages to interlock his fingers with Link’s. “Maybe both of us?” He smiles, seeking Link’s eyes. “It only makes sense that if one of us is going crazy, the other should follow.”

Link squeezes his hand and returns his smile, and Rhett is overwhelmed with feelings he can’t process.

—

The CT scan comes back clear and he’s given a referral to a new doctor for some follow-up tests over the next few days. The new doctor refers him to a specialist, and the specialist refers him to a different specialist, but eventually he has a probable diagnosis.

The first person he should talk to is his therapist, or maybe his brother, but instead he finds himself calling Link and inviting him over. When Rhett answers the door, he finds Link wearing a worried expression and holding a bakery box.

Rhett blinks down at the container, momentarily confused. “Is that…?”

“Pie,” Link says, blushing. “And yes, I feel stupid now. I don’t even know if there’s anything to celebrate, or if I’m gonna spend the night crying, but it felt wrong to not bring something so…”

Rhett wraps his arm around him and guides him inside. “It’s fine. Even if it were bad news, pie would’a been a good call. Peanut butter, right?”

“Right.” Link takes a moment to compose himself before continuing. “With peanut butter infused whipped cream topping. I was promised it’s gonna be good.”

Rhett deposits the pie on the kitchen counter before leading them into the living room. “That sounds amazing. You know, that’s one of the things I’ve always liked best about you. Your good taste.”

Link blushes again as he settles against the edge of Rhett’s couch. “Buttering me up, huh?” His anxious smile fades. “Hurry and tell me what the news is, because I keep feeling like it isn’t great. And if it isn’t great, I’d rather you told me as quick as possible.” 

Rhett makes himself comfortable, half-turning to face Link so he can keep a close eye on his reactions. “None of the tests have shown anything to worry about. So the doctors I’ve been seeing say it’s sort of a process of elimination. Clearly _something_ ’s been going on, but even people who specialize in brain stuff aren’t entirely sure about what they’re doing.”

Link nods as he listens, his face drawn, his hands twisting together within his lap.

“The neurologist thinks I’m having TSA events. And that I’ve been having them for a long time. That’s where you come in.”

“Me?” Link recoils, baffled. 

“Yeah. See, I’ve got no idea how long this has been happening, and my doctor wants to know. I was thinking maybe you and I can puzzle it out.”

Link shakes his head. “Rhett, I’m not a brain doctor. I don’t even know what ‘TSA’ means. If you’re thinking I’m gonna be able to help—”

“It stands for Transient Specific Amnesia. That ring a bell?”

“Nope.” Link sits for a moment, frowning. “Wait. I’ve heard of Transient Global Amnesia. Watched a documentary about someone with it, even. Is it like that?”

“Sort of.” Rhett shifts around, ending up with his knee pressed against Link’s leg and their feet touching. “Only instead of Global, it’s Specific. In this case, the ‘specific’ refers—”

“—to me.”

They sit and stare at each other for several long beats of silence. 

“Yeah. I guess it involves oddities in the hippocampus, and they usually clear up on their own without any lasting damage. It’s not a thing that usually happens over and over again, though.”

Links ponders that with a succession of emotions flickering through his eyes. “Well, it’s good that these episodes aren’t doing any lasting damage,” he replies at last.

“They are though.” Rhett draws in and releases a long breath. “To you.”

Link looks stunned and is momentarily speechless; when he opens his mouth again, he’s already shaking his head. “No, no. You’re the one with the brain disorder. This isn’t about me. I’m fine.”

“You haven’t been, though.” Rhett forces the words out with difficulty. “I’ve spent a lot of time being confused, but you’re the one that’s constantly felt rejected, wondering if I’ve been playing games with you. And this has been going on for…?” He pauses to rub between his eyes. “I don’t even know. Like I said before, that’s where you come in. Do you remember the first time this happened?”

Link’s eyes grow distant. He retreats to the far end of the couch, pulling his legs up and wrapping his arms around them. “I don’t like thinking about this.”

Rhett sits and waits, not quite looking at him but not quite looking away, either. “I don’t blame you,” he says at last. “And Link, I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t.” Link’s voice is thin, like he’s barely holding himself together. “You apologizing for something you weren’t in control of only makes me feel worse, because I had bad feelings towards you each time it happened. I even decided I hated you a few times.” He takes off his glasses to wipe his eyes with shaky hands.

“We don’t have to talk about it anymore right now,” Rhett says in a rush. “We can figure out the rest another time. You want some pie? Lemme get you some pie.”

Link shakes his head and stares down at his feet.

“Is it okay if I touch you? I won’t if you don’t want me to. I can leave you alone for a while if that’s what you want.”

Link continues to sit in silence before swallowing with difficulty and shifting a little closer. “I don’t know,” he says at last. “I want you to hug me. I want to be close to you, as close as I can get. But I know where this ends, and even knowing that there’s a name for your condition…” He trails away, shaking his head. “I’m not sure I’m strong enough to keep going with this. I’m grateful that you know how much it’s affected me, but I don’t think you know just how much it hurts.”

Rhett watches in misery. There’s nothing he wants more than to pull Link into his arms, but he forces himself to stay where he is. “I can imagine,” he says at last. “All I have to do is think about you giving up on me.”

When Link finally speaks again, his voice is choked. “I don’t think I’m ready to walk away yet,” he says. “Even though I probably should. It’s a medical thing. So…” He shakes his head. “Is there a treatment? Something that can stop it?”

“I don’t know,” Rhett admits, speaking in a rush. “But my doctor says there’s ways to manage it. Biofeedback treatments apparently help, and you know. More therapy. I’ve already got a therapist who knows a lot about me, so that’s good. So I wouldn’t have to start from scratch. And if you could come with me…”

Link wipes his face before reaching for Rhett’s hand. “I could go with you,” he agrees shakily. “I mean we’re three decades into this, right?” He pauses for a humorless laugh. “And I love you. Stupid as that is.”

“Pretty stupid,” Rhett says gently as he slides closer and pulls Link’s trembling body into his arms. “Kinda funny how stupid it is for you to love me, while me loving you is probably the smartest decision I’ve ever made.”

“Kinda funny,” Link agrees before burying his face against Rhett’s neck and allowing himself to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (TSA is fictional.)
> 
> And happy New Year! Hopefully 2021 will be better for everyone. :)


	9. Chapter 9

They wind up eating the pie for breakfast with their coffee. It’s perfect; dense, not too sweet, and with the right amount of peanuts to offset the chocolate. Rhett comes up with new praise for each bite, and Link nods along as Rhett feeds him mouthfuls of it.

“So what do you think?” Rhett asks at last. “Should we go into work? Even if we don’t wind up shooting anything, it would probably be good for morale for people to see us there. And together. And talking to each other.”

Link licks his lips, looking dubious. “I dunno. Is the sight of me gonna reassure anyone?”

Rhett takes a closer look at his face, frowning. Despite having fallen asleep on the couch and then continued sleeping once Rhett managed to get him into bed, dark shadows underscore his eyes, his hair is disheveled, and his face is pale. “Nothing a shower won’t fix,” he declares. “And if you aren’t feeling better after a shower, I’ll call Stevie and pass on the bad news.”

Link grimaces. “No, I better do that.”

Rhett can’t repress a grin. “Shame for her that she can’t fire me, huh.”

Link doesn’t quite return his smile. “You’d have been out the door long ago,” he admits. “And I’m sorry about that. I never should have been talking to her about our stuff.”

Rhett shrugs and deposits their plate into the sink. “You needed someone, so I’m glad she was there for you. Maybe I can fix things with her if my brain stops malfunctioning. Come on.” He holds out a hand. “You’re gonna feel so much better once you’re clean.”

—

The shower is the best part of Rhett’s master bathroom, and one of his favorite things about his house. He had it remodeled soon after moving in, installing multiple heads, a rainfall system, and enough space for an entire orgy if he were into that sort of thing. As it stands, he’s plenty happy that there’s room enough for both himself and Link.

He starts by washing Link’s hair, shampooing it twice while Link rests his head against Rhett’s chest and allows him to do all the work. Rhett doesn’t mind. Taking care of Link has always been so satisfying, even back when they were kids and he didn’t have a clue what he wanted. Once the shampoo is sufficiently rinsed, he pulls away enough to work a soapy cloth over every inch of Link’s body, starting with his ears and ending at his feet. It’s a far more thorough job than he usually does on himself but Link seems to appreciate the efforts, his hands bracing against Rhett’s shoulders and his cock stirring to attention. 

“Oh, is that so?” He noses against Link’s erection and looks upward to check Link’s expression. Link’s eyes are closed, but he squeezes his shoulders encouragingly and convulses when Rhett’s tongue runs over the head in a teasing swirl. “So nice,” Rhett murmurs, not sure if his voice carries over the pounding onslaught of his shower’s excellent water pressure. When he repeats the gesture, Link shudders again, his legs spreading as he attempts to steady himself. 

When he sucks lightly at the tip before moving to lazily lick around the ridge, Link’s hands drop to tangle themselves in his wet hair.

“Don’t tease,” he says, his voice soft but clear. “I don’t wanna be teased right now.”

Rhett immediately readjusts his mindset. After taking a deep breath, he sinks his lips around Link’s entire length and hollows his cheeks as he works into a rhythm. He’s gratified as Link’s cock spasms appreciatively and his legs begin to tremble. Rhett backs him against the wall for support, his head bobbing as he strokes the base with a soap-slicked hand.

Link groans and weaves both hands into his hair, thrusting unevenly in response to Rhett’s ministrations and whimpering when Rhett’s hand cradles and caresses his balls. “Oh,” he says, bracing himself against the slick wall. “Oh, that’s so good Rhett, so good, I’m sorry, this isn’t, I’m not gonna—” He gives three long, twitching jerks and then comes with a cry, shooting down Rhett’s throat as Rhett does his best to hold him steady, mindful of the slippery floor. 

He holds him inside his mouth through the aftershocks, pulling away reluctantly as Link grows quiet and still. He ends as he began, with slow, loving nuzzles at the softness before allowing Link to help him stand.

“That was amazing,” Link murmurs. “And you were right. I’m feeling much better now.”

Rhett gives them a final rinse before easing out of the shower and drying them off, Link first. A thought occurs to him as he works the towel downward, gently rubbing or dabbing every inch of Link’s flawless skin. “Has there been anyone else since the last time we…?”

Link blinks, his blissful expression undergoing several transformations as he comes back to himself. “Seriously?”

Rhett shrugs, instantly regretting the question. Link’s right. He has no right to ask.

But Link is already shaking his head, his eyes puzzled as they regard him. “There hasn’t been anyone else, Rhett,” he says patiently. “We’ve talked about this before. You don’t remember?”

Rhett takes a moment to think, to really think, but he’s only able to access feelings rather than the specific memories he’s searching for. Anger as he accused Link of sleeping with randos. Jealousy as he imagines him with various other people. Sorrow almost too big to process as he considers Link living a calm, happy life with someone else, someone caring and stable and—

“Rhett.” Link’s hand is on his shoulder, squeezing insistently. “It’s okay. The answer is the same as it’s always been: no. There’s only you. Even the few times I’ve decided it’s time to move on and start dating other people… it’s never progressed past the first few dates.”

“Never?” His lips have gone numb, and his voice doesn’t sound right.

“Never.” Link goes up on his toes to press a kiss against his lips before claiming the towel and working it over Rhett’s skin. “Pretty stupid, huh?” His kisses various body parts as he dries them. “I could have been pulling two, three times a week while we were ‘off’. But I didn’t.”

“No?”

“No.” Link finishes his work and goes in for a final kiss at the base of his throat. “So you’d best take whatever treatment or therapy you need very seriously.”

—

They make a token appearance at work, joining a few in-progress meetings and making stops in both the art and props departments. Link has reassuring smiles for everyone and Rhett hovers closely at his side, frequently resting a hand on his shoulder or the small of his back. At one point, Link leans in to rest his head against Rhett’s upper arm. Their interactions draw raised eyebrows and a few double-takes, but they resolutely pretend that everything is perfectly normal.

Their final stop is at Stevie’s office, where Link discusses their revised schedule for the following weeks. Stevie goes over everything with Link directly as Rhett does his best to fade into the background. When they finish, Rhett slides an arm around Link’s waist to guide him towards the door. “Have a good weekend, Stevie,” he calls, and he can feel the force of her disapproval burrowing into his shoulder blades as they walk away.

“You too, jackass,” she mutters just before the door closes behind them.

Rhett darts a glance down at Link, but he’s still smiling that blissful little smile he’s been wearing since their shower. “I’m glad she’s been here for you, but gosh. She sure does hate me.” 

Link shrugs. “Yeah, but she loves _me_. And don’t worry.” He turns his smile upward. “If you can get your condition under control, she’ll forgive you and move on. And if you can’t, well, you’d want her looking after me, wouldn’t you?”

“Nope,” Rhett grouses, fully aware of how selfish he sounds but unable to help himself. “Looking after you is my job. Besides, what good would she be if somebody bullies you?”

Link laughs. “Nobody bullies me anymore, Rhett. That’s one of the perks of being an adult, not to mention owning the place where you work.”

“Still…”

Link shakes his head. “Listen. Let’s just agree that no matter how old we get, or what the status of our relationship is -- if anyone bullies me, you get to beat them up.”

Rhett grins, his mood lightening. “Careful there. This is how we get kicked out of the Home when we’re ninety.”

Link joins his laughter. “It’s such a good story that I almost wanna start telling it now.”

They’re still laughing together as they climb into Rhett’s car, and at least for the moment, everything feels good.

—

Mark doesn’t typically do counseling for couples, but he immediately agrees to Rhett’s request that Link join their next session. Rhett can’t help but be suspicious that at least part of Mark’s motivation is curiosity about Link, and those suspicions are reinforced by the rapt attention his therapist pays to his partner during the initial stage of their appointment. 

He can’t blame the man. Link is magnetic, and when he’s like this — a fascinating mixture of nerves and confidence, charisma and vulnerability — anyone would be drawn in. He figures it must be absolutely intoxicating to a professional, especially after all the information Rhett has directly and indirectly shared.

“Hello there,” Link greets him, smiling. “Please call me Link, not any of the names on the paperwork I filled out.”

“Link it is, then,” Mark says, returning his smile. “Go ahead and call me Mark.”

Link settles into the couch, not quite making physical contact with Rhett save for the foot that presses perpendicular to his. Rhett sits and listens while Mark goes over basic information. 

Within minutes, it’s clear to him that Mark likes Link a good deal more than he likes Rhett. 

He can’t say he’s surprised. Link draws people to him with his unique blend of confidence and fragility. God knows it worked on Rhett and continues to work even after decades of exposure. 

“…so the real question I have is: was there an instigating event?”

Realizing that all eyes are on him, Rhett clears his throat and forces his attention back to the present. “Er,” he says. “Sorry. Drifted off there for a minute. What are we talking about?”

To his credit, Mark doesn’t sigh or look irritated like he normally might. Maybe that’s because he’s trying to impress Link. Or maybe it’s due to the report he’s flipping through. “I was saying that I’ve looked over your tests results, as well as the reports by your doctor and neurologist, and I agree with their treatment plan. And I went on to say that it might be helpful to find out if there’s a root cause to your condition.”

Rhett nods along, acutely aware of Link’s eyes on his face. 

“I was asking about an instigating event. The first time the two of you can remember this happening. Since your TSA episodes are so tightly focused on Link, I don’t think it’s a stretch to suspect that the initial event was something involving him.” He pauses. “Did something traumatic happen when the two of you first became involved with each other?”

Link remains quiet, so Rhett starts talking. 

“I don’t think so,” he says, rubbing his forehead as he thinks. “I’m not even sure when our ‘first time’ was, or if we really had one. It was just… sort of a slow progression, if you get what I mean.”

A glance at Mark’s face makes it clear that their therapist does not.

He tries again. “In my mind, we were always sort of together, at least from the time we were old enough to have those sorts of feelings. And it just progressed. You know, like—” He reaches for Link’s hand and interlocks their fingers. “We sometimes used to hold hands when we were little. Like when we were hiking and helping each other over dangerous spots, or while we were watching exciting movies - kid stuff. And then when we were pre-teens and tough stuff happened in our lives, we’d do the same but it was… a little different then? And then as we got older and, uh, developed, we’d sometimes hold hands and we both just sort of understood what it meant.”

Mark nods as he listens, his face unreadable. 

“Things escalated so gradually that we hardly noticed. It seemed natural.” He turns to Link, finally daring to check his expression. “…right?”

Link’s face is nearly as neutral as Mark’s most professional expression. “In some ways,” he says, his tone as careful as his words. “…but there was that one afternoon.”

Rhett frowns. “There were a lot of afternoons. We were almost always together.”

“But one in particular,” Link prompts. “In your bedroom?”

Rhett thinks for a moment, but nothing specific comes to mind.

Link turns his attention to Mark. “Should I say, or…?”

Mark gives him a little nod. “Go ahead and tell Rhett what you remember,” he says. “Unless Rhett would prefer to step out of the room for a moment…?”

Rhett barely stops himself from rolling his eyes. “Yeah he can say, and no I don’t need to step outside. I’m not gonna fall apart over some stupid story I can’t even remember.”

A hush falls over the room before Link begins speaking again, his voice still low and careful. “It was after school,” he says, squeezing Rhett’s hand. “We were in your bedroom. Your brother was out with his friends, your parents were at work, we thought we had plenty of time. So we were careless. We had Merle playing a bit too loud, and we were on your bed. I think we only planned to listen to the music and kiss and stuff, but then things got more intense…” He looks up at Rhett, his eyes searching.

Rhett shakes his head. “Sounds like any other afternoon.”

“I took your shirt off, and you had my pants half-open. Remember? We were being playful at first, but then we both let our guards down. We were usually careful. Clothes on, ready to spring apart at any second, but not that day. We were kissing so intensely, like we were tryin’ to devour each other, and you had your hand down my pants. That was… new for us. And pretty overwhelming for me. I remember the music had clicked off, and I was making too much noise because it was…” He trails away to catch his breath, his cheeks flushed, his eyes far away.

“Link.” Rhett squeezes his hand and rubs his thumb in soothing circles. 

Mark remains silent.

Eventually, Link regains control of his voice and resumes the story. “I was… yeah. I kind of lost my mind, I was so filled with hormones and so crazy about you. I wasn’t sparing a single thought for anything else that might happen. So we both missed the fact that someone had come home, and didn’t realize how fucked we were until your door flew open and your dad was standing there.”

Rhett attempts to suck in a breath, but that’s not easy when all the oxygen in the room has vanished. “I remember,” he manages at last, but he doesn’t. Not really. He has no clear memory of their aborted make-out session, or exactly what his hand had been doing, not even Link’s reactions — which are usually his most cherished memories. In their place he has a collection of scattered emotions — excitement at being with Link, shock as the door slams open, terror at the sight of his father’s horrified expression.

“Yeah, I remember,” he adds eventually, his face numb.

Link presses against him, his eyes filled with concern, his hand squeezing insistently in an attempt to ground him. 

“What do you remember, Rhett?” Mark’s voice is cool and professional. Nothing wrong here. Just getting the facts.

“Nothing that Link just said,” he admits. “But I know it’s all true. The part I remember is him bellowing at Link to get the fuck out of his house. I remember Link trying to hold his pants together as he ran out the door, shirtless. Then my dad, hauling me to my feet. Dragging me into his bedroom. Unbuckling his belt and whipping me until I blacked out.”

Silence falls over the room again.

Link squeezes his hand tight enough to cut into his circulation. “You didn’t come back to school that week,” he says, his voice strung tight. “I was so worried. I wasn’t sleeping, or eating, or…”

Rhett nods through the fog clouding his mind. “I don’t remember those particular days,” he admits. And a beat later, “I’m sorry.”

Link is already shaking his head. “The less you suffered, the better.”

“I wasn’t suffering by the time I returned to school.”

“No,” Link reflects, his attention shifting to Mark. “But when he came back, he was different. Suddenly we were ‘just friends’ again. But that seemed understandable to me. I figured that whatever happened in his house… hadn’t been good. So we were just friends, and I backed off as best I could, and…”

Rhett forces his eyes to meet Link’s. “That was it,” he says. “The first time it happened.”

Mark looks pleased. “That was excellent work from both of you,” he says, and Rhett feels some of the tension leaving Link’s body as he soaks up the praise. He looks back to Rhett. “How old were you?”

“Um.” Rhett takes a moment to think. “Seventeen.”

“Almost an adult,” Mark notes. “I’m sorry that happened to you. You didn’t deserve that.”

Rhett shrugs. “It was a pretty big shock for my dad. Learning first hand, up close and personal, that his son was… whatever I was. That must’ve been tough. In his mind, I figure he thought he was teaching me a lesson and putting me back on the right path.”

The three of them sit in silence for a moment. Link continues to cling to his hand, and Mark watches him with so much sympathy that Rhett has to drop his gaze to the floor.

“When did the two of you reunite?” Mark asks eventually.

Rhett frowns, thinking, and after a moment Link chimes in. 

“As friends? Right away. But we had to be really careful until we moved out and went to college. Even when we were living together as roommates, it wasn’t easy. We had a third person with us, and we had to be careful around him, too.”

“Didn’t wanna make him uncomfortable,” Rhett adds. 

Mark turns his attention to Link. “How many times do you think this has happened?”

Link thinks for a moment, frowning. “I don’t know. I mean, a lot of our, uh, romantic and sexual relationship came from just unusual boundaries. Especially when we were young. I can think of lots of times when we’d do things like… I dunno, cuddle. Or kiss. Or touch each other in ways that most friends probably don’t — but without any sort of expectation or commitment behind it. So going back and forth between friendship and more-than-friends wasn’t a huge thing.” He pauses, his frown deepening. 

Rhett takes over.

“Mostly, I think I’ve had memory stuff kick in any time something ‘official’ happened between us. Like Link asking me to move in, or calling our relationship what it is, or when we got engaged.”

He can hear Link’s pained swallow. “Less official stuff, too,” he adds. “Like when we’d go a month or more acting like committed, loving partners. Or if someone would catch us being all over each other and make a comment…” 

“Yeah.” Rhett nods. “I remember a few of those comments, and feeling sort of blank afterward.”

Mark takes a few more notes. “We’re about out of time here,” he says, “but Rhett, I think it might be helpful if you make a list of those occasions as the two of you recall them. Then start journaling about those events and how they relate back to the incident with your father. Focusing as much as you can on the feelings you were experiencing at the time as best you can.”

Rhett grimaces.

Mark offers a sympathetic smile. “Remember back when I told you that effective therapy is hard work?”

“Actually, I don’t. Which I guess shouldn’t surprise anyone.”

Link laughs a little, squeezing his hand one more time before pulling them both to their feet.


	10. Chapter 10

They decide to continue living apart while Rhett focuses on his treatment plan. The last thing either of them want is to trigger another event, potentially setting back Rhett’s progress and shaking Link’s fragile confidence that things will be different this time.

But there’s no reason not to spend their free time lounging together in Rhett’s living room, listening to music and enjoying each other’s company.

“So I’ve been thinking,” Rhett tells him once he has a solid month of biofeedback and a series of productive therapy sessions under his belt. 

“Uh-oh.”

Rhett reaches over to deliver a light swat to Link’s upper thigh. “I’m bein’ serious. And I’m gonna need you to do your best not to get mad while we talk about this, okay?”

“Okay?” Link’s face instantly instantly draws into anxious lines. “I mean, can’t promise how I’m gonna feel until I hear what you’ve got to say, but I’ll do my best.”

Rhett nods and gives Link’s leg a reassuring squeeze before releasing him. “The one thing my doctors and therapist all agree on is that it’s almost definitely gonna happen again,” he begins, and Link is already nodding, tension giving way to understanding.

“Don’t do that,” Rhett says, frowning.

“Do what?”

“Give me a free pass right off the start. You’ve already made enough allowances for me. Way more than any other person would have.”

“Because I love you, dummy,” Link replies, a distinct note of testiness entering his voice. “You can’t really be telling me that I shouldn’t be understanding if you have more TSA events. Especially now that we know what’s happening.”

Rhett shifts his position so he’s forced to look directly at Link. “I wanna talk about how this affects you, and how we can make things better for you. I’ve been thinking about something you said before, and you were right. It’s not fair that you’re always the one getting hurt and feeling rejected.”

Link shrugs. “It’s a medical situation.”

“It’s also my head making choices that protect me. At the cost of hurting you.”

Link has no argument for that, so Rhett continues.

“So I was thinking we need a plan. If I wake up in the morning and I’m acting like we’re just friends and have always been just friends, you need a way to remind me.”

“How about you just keep up with your journal and if I think something’s headed sideways, I tell you to check that?”

Rhett nods as he listens. “That sounds good. Unless I forget I’ve got a journal going, or decide it doesn’t matter, or refuse to open it.”

Link frowns. “Okay then. What if we got you some sort of medical ID bracelet? The kind that can’t come off without a jeweler’s tools.”

Rhett considers that, his eyes on his wrist. Bracelets aren’t his usual sort of thing, but he can imagine something solid and metal on his skin, something engraved with Link’s name. His face warms as his fingers circle the place where it would go. “It could read, ‘Remember that Link’s your boyfriend, stupid.’”

Link laughs. “That might be a little too long. Maybe just my name. Even if your memory goes haywire, I bet you couldn’t ignore a bracelet with my name on it. At the very least, you’d be asking me about it, and then I’d immediately know that you’re having a relapse. That’s always been the worst part, you know.” He falls silent, his smile fading.

“What’s always been the worst part?”

Link sighs. “We don’t have to keep going on about this.”

“I want to know. And it helps to say things out loud, that’s what Mark’s always telling me. What’s the worst part?”

Link wraps his arms around himself. “Not knowing what’s going on with you, just suddenly being treated different and having no clue why. Wondering if I did something wrong. Replaying everything I did and said in my mind, trying to figure out _what_ I did wrong. Wondering if you’re just in a bad mood or wanna be left alone. Thinking maybe I’m over-reacting.” 

Rhett shifts closer and places a hand on Link’s shoulder. “I’m sorry this has been so hard on you. You probably should have bailed a long time ago, and I’m… just real grateful that you didn’t.”

Link leans into his touch and shrugs. “At least now we know what we’re facing. That changes everything.”

Rhett sincerely hopes so.

—

It’s a decent enough way to start a journal, he figures. He returns to his leather-bound book, rips out the first page, and begins fresh with an inscription for himself:

“Hey dummy: Link Neal is not just your best friend. He’s been your partner for a long time, even if you don’t remember that right now. And by partner, I don’t mean business or creative. He’s your actual real _partner_ , and you need to treat him like you love him, because you do.”

He sits and stares at the words for a long time before flipping a few pages deeper and continuing the memory exercises Mark suggested.

Therapy continues to be difficult and exhausting, but he attends each session whether he feels like it or not. He discusses each memory-loss episode with Mark as best he can, sometimes reading Link’s words out of his journal, sometimes speaking from his own recollections. The more they talk, the more patterns become clear. The shame, the fear of being caught, his fear of unfair consequences, all interlaced with worries about losing Link forever. He ends nearly every session wiping his eyes and blowing his nose while Mark praises his efforts.

Meanwhile, he and Link film episodes that are filled with genuine pleasure and laughter. They make eye contact, touch frequently, finish each other’s sentences, and have fun going off-script and letting things get crazy. The crew laughs along with them, and the comment sections shower them with approval.

And while he and Link aren’t staying overnight at each other’s houses, they’re going on actual dates. It’s a revelation to Rhett, just how much fun it is to get dressed up and go out for dinner. To hold hands beneath the table while they eat, feed each other choice morsels from each other’s plates, and tease Link mercilessly for a palate that’s anything but fancy-restaurant compatible — every bit of it feels easy, and fun, and right.

Things are feeling almost too perfect until an afternoon when he’s walking down a hallway at work, on his way to meet with Josh when he happens past the conference room and catches sight of Alex sitting beside Link.

He comes to a full and complete stop, his eyes narrowing, his breath quickening. There’s absolutely no reason why Alex needs to have his chair so close to Link’s, and definitely no reason for him to punctuate every other statement with a touch to Link’s arm. Who does that, he fumes. There’s also no reason to laugh at every single thing Link says. He’s funny, but he’s not _that_ funny. 

Rhett stands and watches for as long as he can stand it but when Alex leans in _even closer _to whisper something into Link’s ear, he loses his damn mind and goes tearing inside, allowing the door to slam behind him. He stalks over to the table and looms over them, his narrowed gaze fixed on Alex.__

__A small, saner part of his brain is telling him that he probably looks like a crazy person, because both Alex and Link shrink back like they’re under attack._ _

__“What’s going on here?” he demands. “I didn’t see this meeting on my calendar.”_ _

__There’s a pause before Link meets his gaze. “That’s because you weren’t invited,” he says, maddening calm._ _

__“Why not?”_ _

__Alex has started shoving his electronics and papers into a stack, muttering something about the time._ _

__“Because it’s a meeting between me and Alex,” Link says, narrowing his eyes. “If it had anything to do with you, you would have been invited.”_ _

__He considers forbidding Alex from leaving until his interrogation is complete, but the look on Link’s face nixes that plan in a hurry. “A meeting about what?” he presses as Alex slips out the door. “What could you possibly have to discuss with him that doesn’t involve me?”_ _

__Link sits and stares up at him, his expression perfectly neutral._ _

__“I’m not being crazy,” he continues, his voice rising again. “It is really so crazy for me to wanna know what the two of you are up to? Especially when it’s so clear he’s got a thing for you.” He pauses for a half-beat. “And you’ve sorta got a thing for him too, don’t you? I guess it must be nice. A younger guy, no mental problems, who looks up to you and fawns all over you. No worries Link, I get it.”_ _

__“You really don’t.” Link’s words fall slowly, placid and distant. “You need to take a few minutes and settle down, because I’m not gonna discuss anything with you while you’re like this.”_ _

__“Like what?” Rhett paces back and forth across the room, running his hands through his hair multiple times. He’s certain it’s standing on end all over his head, no doubt adding to the illusion that he’s gone insane, but he can’t seem to help himself. Blood roars in his ears and his face burns nearly as hot as his eyes._ _

__“Rhett.” Link’s voice is even lower, even calmer. “Please sit down. Sit, and take some deep breaths. I’ll take them with you if you want.”_ _

__He scoffs. “Like that’s gonna help.” He paces another half-dozen times before rounding the table and taking a seat in the chair recently vacated by Alex. He opens his mouth to say more about how he can breathe just fine and definitely doesn’t need to settle down when Link’s hands move to his shoulders and begin kneading into tightly strung muscles._ _

__“Just three deep breaths,” Link says, closing his eyes. “Come on. I’ll do them with you. In… and out. In… and out. In…”_ _

__Despite his objections Rhett finds his eyes closing, and a moment later he’s following Link’s lead. The first half-dozen breaths do absolutely nothing for him and he’s about to tell Link how stupid this is when his muscles begin to unclench and the pounding in his head lessens. In, and out. Link’s hands continue to work at his shoulders, caressing and soothing. In, and out. He finally lets go of the tension that’s holding him stiffly in his seat and drops his head against Link’s shoulder._ _

__In, and out._ _

__“I’m sorry,” he says an indeterminate amount of time later. “I’m such an ass.”_ _

__“Yeah,” Link agrees, pressing a kiss against his temple. “Add him to the list of people you’re gonna have to apologize to.”_ _

__He buries his face against Link’s neck and grumbles._ _

__“But since it’s so important to you — we were talking about a job he’s applying for. I was helping him with his application package, and helping him select materials for his portfolio.”_ _

__“…oh.”_ _

__“Uh-huh. Probably not a meeting you should have interrupted.”_ _

__Rhett sighs. “Like I said, I’m an idiot. But I’m right about the one thing, aren’t I?” He continues when Link doesn’t reply. “He’s got a crush on you. He always has. Constantly making cow-eyes at you and finding excuses to touch you, and why the hell does a job interview require him to go whispering into your ear?”_ _

__Link shrugs, thoroughly unimpressed. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m pretty crush-able. But in this case, it’s not even that.” He pauses. “He’s got a girlfriend. He just likes me and feels comfortable with me. You’ve got to know I’d never get involved with one of our employees.”_ _

__“I do know what,” Rhett replies quietly, shame washing over him. “I guess it’s just easier to obsess about one guy than to think about all the potential others.”_ _

__“…who don’t exist.”_ _

__“But who could, if I don’t get my act together.”_ _

__Link reaches up to stroke the back of his head. “You’re getting it together. Alex-related tantrum aside, I’m proud of how much progress you’re making.”_ _

__“Yeah?”_ _

__“Yeah.” Link gives him a light, lingering kiss before a buzz from his phone signals the next events on his schedule._ _

__—_ _

__He’s nervous about their trip to the jewelry store._ _

__It takes him a long time to admit that he’s nervous. At first, he convinces Link he has perfectly legitimate excuses to not go. The excuses sound pretty reasonable as he issues them; in addition to work, he’s got medical appointments and therapy appointments and he needs time to relax occasionally, too. And time with just Link and no one else around. And time for walks, for reading, for watching trash on television…_ _

__“Look,” Link says once his patience runs dry. “This whole thing was your idea. _Your_ plan to find a way to make this easier on me. You agreed to it, and I’ve done the work of finding a jeweler I think you’ll be comfortable with, and choosing the bracelet, and getting the inscription done… all you need to do is get it attached.”_ _

__“Yeah,” Rhett agrees in a long sigh, looking at his wrist. “You really picked it out?”_ _

__“Uh-huh. Got it inscribed, too. I hope you like it, but if you don’t…” He trails off into a shrug._ _

__Rhett laughs. “Yeah. My own fault. Okay, let’s go get this thing done.”_ _

__He’d imagined a jewelry store filled with mirrors and bright lights and endless glass display cases, but the place Link brings him to is small and unassuming. The owner is working behind the counter, and he lights up when Link walks inside. “Mr. Neal,” he greets warmly. “Lovely to see you again.”_ _

__“Hey, Dave,” Link replies with a smile. “I think we’re finally ready to do this.” He turns and gestures to Rhett with a nod. “It’s for him.”_ _

__If Dave is surprised, he gives no indication of it. “Lucky man,” he says. “Your friend spent a lot of time on every aspect of this piece: the metal, the chains, the placard, the font of the inscription…”_ _

__“Course he did,” Rhett says, laughing. “Let’s see it.”_ _

__It takes Dave just a moment to locate the box within a locked case behind him, and he’s already opening it as he places it on the counter. It’s both delicate and masculine, with flat silver interlocking links surrounding the oval-shaped, smooth placard. When Rhett lifts it, the weight feels exactly right: substantial and solid, but not enough to weigh him down. After running his fingers over the cool metal, he turns it over to take a look at the inscription._ _

__It’s simple but beautifully etched: “Charles Link Neal” followed by an infinity symbol._ _

__“Oh,” he manages, looking over to Link, who’s smiling at him with an odd expression._ _

__“You like it?” The question comes out in a rush, and Rhett hears echoes of a much-younger version of Link in his voice._ _

__“I do. It’s perfect.”_ _

__The jeweler beams as he glances back and forth between them, not interjecting until he seems certain they’ve finished their hushed conversation. “Mr. Neal told me that you want this welded into place,” he says. “I can do that. We use a laser, and it only takes a few seconds.”_ _

__“And if I ever need it to come off?”_ _

__“Then you come back to me and I’ll take care of it. There’s nothing to worry about.”_ _

__Rhett nods and extends his wrist, waiting patiently while Dave places a towel beneath his hand, a protective slide between the metal and his skin, and wields a much smaller tool than he was expecting. There’s a quick flash of light and it’s done._ _

__“Just like that?” Rhett stares down at the bracelet that now seamlessly encircles his wrist._ _

__“Just like that.”_ _

__Rhett runs his fingertips around it before looking up to smile at Link, and he’s surprised to see that Link is blushing. “I love it,” he assures him. “You did good.”_ _

__He wanders down the counter while Link finishes up with Dave, admiring the understated pieces and unique designs before coming to a stop before a display of simple rings. There’s that feeling again; that deep sense of unease he gets when something reminds him of yet another time he hurt and disappointed Link. He places his hands against the counter, willing back the rush of queasiness until Link comes over and takes his arm._ _

__“Let’s get going,” Link says, the lightness in his tone sounding slightly forced. “I’m hungry, and you promised me lunch.”_ _

__“I did,” Rhett agrees, moving away and offering Link his arm. “Thanks again,” he calls to Dave. “I’ll be back if I need to be cut free.” When both Link and Dave give him odd looks, he clarifies: “I mean, for an MRI or something. Sheesh.”_ _

__—_ _

__Things continue going well, often edging towards great. He and Link enjoy an explosion of creativity, writing new skits and pitches for future projects and outlining ideas for a potential movie. Rhett knows that most of it won’t materialize into anything, but it’s great fun to hang out with Link, bantering and bouncing ideas off each other until their proposals morph into wild flights of fancy._ _

__Their sex life follows a similar course, with movies, card games, and once even dinner being interrupted by one of them dragging the other off to bed._ _

__Sometimes Rhett returns home afterward, but more he opts to fall asleep with Link. He’s decided Link’s bed is far superior to his own — mainly because it has Link in it._ _


	11. Chapter 11

Things are going so well that they decide to steal some time from their responsibilities for a day trip to the beach. Link is practically vibrating with excitement as he loads up his car, and Rhett decides to limit his involvement to carrying items between the porch and the driveway. He’s certain there’s no way it’s all gonna fit inside the trunk, but after thirty minutes of reshuffling and swearing, everything from the picnic basket to the oversized beach umbrella has somehow been jenga’d in.

Rhett tunes out while on the freeway, occasionally making an agreeable noise in Link’s direction as Link chatters and frequently changes the music. He’s warm and relaxed, his mind mostly blank, his eyes scanning the roads as he navigates through the southern California traffic — a stressful tangle most days, but the madness seems to part for them as they approach the ocean.

They arrive just before noon and have their makeshift camp set up in record time. Link is less exacting than usual, and Rhett keeps awaiting orders that never materialize.

“Just… pile it on top of the blanket?”

“Yeah sure, that’s fine,” Link assures him, his eyes on the waves. “You wanna get out there right away or have lunch first?”

“And leave our stuff unattended?” Rhett stares at him in amazement. 

“Eh, there’s plenty of beach blankets and umbrellas and baskets for a beach burglar to pick from. Ours aren’t even fancy. Besides.” He grins. “If our lunch gets swiped, you can take me out.”

Rhett shrugs; there’s nothing here that he’s especially attached to. It’s mostly Link’s stuff, anyhow, so if he wants to risk it, it’s up to him.

Link roots around in one of the cloth bags before locating a tube of sunscreen, which he begins working into his skin before giving Rhett a pouty look. “Do it for me?”

Rhett frowns; Link could easily manage himself, but he doesn’t want to start the day with a fight so he squirts a generous amount of ointment into his palm and begins covering Link’s exposed flesh. “You’ve got a pretty good base tan,” he notes while he works. “I think you’ll be okay.”

Link gives him an odd look as he holds out his arms to make the application process easier. “Maybe we should have worn our wetsuits.”

Rhett shakes his head. “If you wanted to surf, we should have been here at dawn.” He finishes coating Link’s back with white gunk and wipes his hands on a towel. Link’s, he hopes. “Let’s get out there.”

“Race you,” Link calls as he breaks into a sprint, but Rhett easily catches up and out-paces him, reaching the foamy waves three full strides in advance. 

“Nice try,” he taunts, backing his way further into the chilly water and relishing the feel of waves striking the backs of his legs. It’s cold, but somehow moving water never feels quite as jarring. Especially the undulating motions of the sea, which always seems to beckon him to wade further.

Link yelps as the water hits his shins, his eyes going wide with surprise. “You could’a warned me that it’s f-freezing!”

Rhett laughs at him with real pleasure. “It’s not cold,” he calls. “You just need to stop being a wimp and plunge straight in. Like this.” After wading another foot or two, he plugs his nose and ducks his head beneath an incoming wave. It covers him completely, a baptism of frigid seawater. 

Link continues to inch his way forward, his face pinched with displeasure. “Gosh, it feels like melted ice,” he mutters. He holds out both of his arms in a child-like gesture. “Come back for me.”

Rhett whoops with laughter and plunges into the waves, allowing them to carry him to and fro as he submits to their force. When he emerges, Link has only gained a small amount of ground and doesn’t look a bit happier. “I thought this was what you wanted,” he calls. “Go to the beach. Play in the waves. Swim in the ocean. Why’re you wimpin’ out on me?”

Link wraps his arms around himself and stares straight ahead, his face expressionless. Rhett instantly sobers; that look is never a good sign. In fact, it’s usually a harbinger of bad things to come. “Fine,” he says, half-swimming to where Link stands shivering. After a second’s hesitation, he wraps both arms around his friend and runs his hands up and down the gooseflesh of his arms. “We can get out, get you dry, have lunch.”

Link’s gaze is searching and strange, but after a moment Link leans his head against Rhett’s chest and nods. “Sorry I’m being a bummer. This just doesn’t feel right.”

“Because you’re cold.” Rhett spends another moment rigorously warming him before tugging Link’s arm shore-ward. “And maybe you’re on to something,” he adds. “Not many people here today. Maybe they know somethin’ that we don’t.”

“Yeah, like the Pacific is freezing,” Link mutters, allowing himself to be guided to the sand. Once they reach their beach blanket, he stands shivering and dripping and looking at Rhett with expectant eyes.

“I tossed your towel over there,” Rhett says, nodding in the correct direction before picking up his own and wrapping it around his waist. 

Link looks around, frowning, before snatching the crumpled towel, shaking it free of sand, and tugging it over his shoulders. “Okay,” he says uneasily, his eyes flickering back to the ocean and returning to Rhett a few times. “Guess I’ll get dry while you dig out our lunch?” He locates a second towel in one of their bags and uses that to dry himself before tugging on an oversized sweatshirt. 

“Sure.” Lunch isn’t difficult to locate; Link has it neatly stored inside a cooler. There’s nothing elaborate, just peanut butter sandwiches and chips and grapes and… a bottle of wine? 

He holds it up and aims a curious look at Link. 

“There’s a corkscrew and some plastic cups in there,” he replies distantly while running the towel over his mostly-dry hair. 

“Can’t remember you ever bringing wine to the beach before.” Rhett scratches his head, as if the motion might dig up some buried memories, but nothing surfaces. 

“Maybe not with you.” Link shrugs and settles down on their blanket, where he promptly begins brushing away stray grains of sand. “It’s a sparkling wine, so closer to a wine cooler than anything else. Probably real sweet, too.”

Rhett pops it open and pours them each a glass ad buries the bottle into the sand before reaching over for a cheers. “Here’s to a relaxing afternoon,” he says. “So what do you wanna do after lunch?”

“Lie in the sun, probably.” Link takes a sip of the wine and grimaces slightly. “Can’t waste all the hard work you put into protecting my skin.”

Rhett shoots him a puzzled look before digging into his sandwich. It brings a rush of memories from when they were little, sitting at his mother’s avocado-green kitchen table while she poured sweet tea and tried to coax them into eating their carrots. “This is good,” he says around a mouthful. 

Link nods, looking increasingly glum. His sandwich sits untouched on his plate, but he watches Rhett eat with apparent interest. Rhett decides to indulge him, polishing off his sandwich in six more bites. 

“What’s going on?” he asks as he finishes. “Not hungry?”

Link nudges the plate in his direction. “Feed it to me?”

Rhett frowns. “I mean, sure, but…” He lifts a chip and holds it up so Link can chomp into it. “This is sort of awkward.”

Link sighs. “Yeah,” he agrees. “I guess it sort of is.”

They sit in silence for a moment, eying each other over the plate before Link speaks again. “So I have a question for you.”

“Okay?” Rhett frowns. “You know you can ask me anything.”

Link gives a little nod. “Who am I?”

Rhett feels his frown deepen. “What?”

“Who. Am. I?”

Rhett snaps his open mouth shut. “You’re Charles Lincoln Neal the third. Link Neal. Link.”

Link doesn’t look satisfied. “I mean, who am I to you?”

“My best friend,” he replies, but even as the right answer emerges from his lips he knows it’s somehow wrong.

“Not the love of your life?”

Rhett frowns, the plate in his hands going wobbly. “Yeah,” he says after a beat. “I mean, of course. Sure. That’s what you are.”

Link’s eyes are far away, but his expression is filled with sympathy. “Check your wrist,” he says softly, and when Rhett begins toying with the chain, he continues. “Turn it over, and tell me the first thought that pops into your head.”

He reads the names he’s just said and locks his gaze against the symbol that follows them. “That’s supposed to remind me to do something important,” he says, frowning. “A book, I think.”

Link nods. “Your journal. It’s supposed to remind you to find your journal and read that, but it’s at home. So I’ll tell you a story instead.”

“Okay?” Rhett sets the plate aside and moves closer to Link, because he shouldn’t be so far away from the love of his life. 

Link grants him an approving smile and straightens his legs before patting his upper thighs. “Your pillow,” he says. “Get comfortable, and close your eyes.”

He relaxes under the shade of their umbrella, warm and full and slightly sleepy. 

“I was nineteen, you were twenty, and we were laying on the grass. I wanted to bring a blanket, but you said the grass would be fine. I guess you were right? It was sorta damp, but we didn’t mind too much. Pretty bumpy too, but you remember what it was like when we were young. That sorta stuff didn’t bother us any.”

“Yeah.” Rhett sighs, wiggling around in an effort to relax his back. “What were we doing?”

“Just looking up at the sky. Naming the constellations that we knew, and then making up ones that didn’t exist. Trying to trick each other with fakes that sounded plausible.” His laughter is soft. “You won’t be surprised to hear that you tricked me more than I fooled you. ‘Course once we got going, I let you think you were pulling them over on me. It makes you so happy to convince me of silly stuff like that.”

“Sounds like me,” Rhett agrees. “It was just the two of us?”

“Well, yeah. Who else was gonna want to spend Saturday night like that?” He runs his fingers through Rhett’s seawater-tangled hair. “We spent a long time arguing about alien life that might be up there, and what aliens might be like. I told you that I dreamed about space travel, just hoppin’ in a spaceship someday and taking off into the great unknown.” He pauses. “You got upset.”

“I did?” Rhett frowns, doing his best to remember. “Why?”

Link’s answer is quiet. “Because you thought that meant I’d leave you.”

“Oh.” He still can’t remember the conversation, but he’s struck by a wave of sadness. Of course he was upset. He can almost envision it happening — Link in a trim little space suit, standing on the steps of a futuristic spacecraft and smiling as he waves goodbye. 

Link returns to running his fingers through Rhett’s hair, the motions rhythmic and soothing. “You made me promise I wouldn’t leave the planet without you.”

“That was smart.” He pauses as a group walks past and resumes once they’re out of earshot. “And look. You’re still here, with me.”

He expects Link to laugh and crack a joke about the unfortunate unavailability of personalized spaceships but when he resumes his story, Link’s voice is low and serious. “I promised, but you were still so upset. Nothing I said calmed you much. You acted like I was on my way up and out that very night.”

Rhett closes his eyes. “I sound annoying. How did you put up with someone so annoying?”

This time, Link laughs. “Same way I do now, dummy. I loved you. And since nothin’ I said made any difference, I pulled you on top of me so you could hold me down.”

The breath catches in Rhett’s throat as memories rush back. The sharp prickle of tears behind his eyes, the tightness in his throat, the relentless pounding of his heart. Pressing down on top of Link, his hands finding his wrists, his ankles hooking around Link’s calves. Pinning him to the grass and then his mouth was on Link’s lips, kissing him clumsy and stupid and desperate. Silently begging, don’t ever leave me.

And Link not fighting or pushing him away but moaning into his mouth, parting his lips and allowing Rhett’s tongue to explore within. Neither of them knowing what they were doing, but it didn’t matter because it was the two of them and they were together and they were binding themselves together even tighter. Link’s uneven breathing, their erections grinding together, Link squirming beneath him and—

“You remember?” Link’s voice is barely a whisper. 

“I don’t understand how I could have forgotten.” Rhett’s voice comes out rough and hoarse. “I remember everything now. I wanted you so badly.”

“Do you still?”

Rhett groans, tilting his head to peer up at him. “God, yes. Why do there have to be other people around? I want you right now.” 

He half-expects Link to laugh, but instead he meets Rhett’s eyes and nods. “Let’s go.”

Link has their things gathered and shoved into bags in record time. Everything is haphazardly loaded into the trunk, nothing allocated a special slot or placed with careful consideration. Rhett has to practically jump against the lid before it agrees to latch, and Link barely seems to notice. 

The drive back is mostly quiet, with music playing and Link leaning against the passenger door window, his eyes closed, a faint smile on his lips. “You know,” he says at one point, apropos of nothing, “the first time isn’t supposed to be great, but all of our firsts were.”

“Yeah,” Rhett agrees after some time passes, the word feeling thick in his mouth. He considers saying more, but Link’s eyes are closed and his face is relaxed and Rhett decides to just enjoy the warm, quiet energy and focus on getting them home.

As soon as they arrive at Link’s house, Link all but dives out of the car. “Leave the stuff for now,” he says, guiding Rhett towards the back gate.

Rhett stands in agreeable silence while Link enters the code and allows himself to be dragged to the expanse of grass on the far side of the pool, the part of the yard that’s mostly shaded between the trees and the fence. He smirks as Link pulls them both to the ground, his eyes on Link’s flushed face. “You sure you don’t want me to go grab a blanket?”

“I’m sure. I wanna feel the grass, and you, and that’s it.” He tugs Rhett down beside him and Rhett slides an arm behind his head, protecting him from the dirt and the bugs and whatever else lurks beneath the well-tended lawn. 

“Okay,” he agrees, wrapping his other arm around Link’s waist to pull their bodies closer. Link is panting and overexcited, so Rhett anchors his hand against Link’s hip and slows their kisses. “No rush,” he whispers. “Remember how slow we took things the first time? I remember my lips barely brushing yours. Like this.” He leans in to ghost his mouth across Link’s, pressing a tiny kiss on his chin. His heart pounds at both the memory and their current reality. “I wasn’t sure if I’d actually done it.”

“You were so brave.” Link closes his eyes and kisses him slowly, tenderly. 

“Nah.” Rhett parts his lips and allows the tip of Link’s tongue inside his mouth, sucking at it with gentle intensity. He’s gratified when Link groans and rolls his hips forward. “…I thought I was gonna die.”

“Die happy, though,” Link says between kisses before taking Rhett’s hand and sliding it up to his chest. “I had no idea how much I was gonna love having my chest touched before you did it.”

Rhett buries his face against Link’s neck, licking and suckling at the salty-warm skin while rubbing at each of Link’s nipples in turn. They instantly harden and Link’s breath grows rapid and uneven. He pulls up Link’s shirt and lowers himself further, swirling his tongue around Link’s right nip while his forefinger and thumb caress the other. 

“Yeah,” Link pants, twitching against him. “Yeah, like that. I couldn’t even believe how good it felt. Still can’t.” His words end on a little whine as he arches forward, his chest shuddering.

Rhett licks and sucks, marveling at how responsive Link is to his tongue, his touch. Eventually Link’s hand clamps down on his and drags it to his fully erect cock. There’s already a wet spot on the front of his shorts and Rhett begins thumbing at the circle, relishing the way Link’s breath hitches and his body shudders. 

“Remember,” Link manages, squirming into his touch, “the time you reached down and started doing this?”

“I remember,” Rhett says, squeezing Link’s length through the thin fabric of his shorts. He backs off a little when Link gasps and begins sliding his fingers up and down, pausing to circle around the damp fabric surrounding his head. “I’d wanted to do that — this — for so long.”

Link presses his face against Rhett’s neck, panting in time with the contact. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he whispers before hooking his thumbs into the elastic of his shorts and dragging them down. 

Rhett can’t help but pause to admire Link’s exposed cock — swollen, dark pink, and leaking freely. He takes it in one hand and begins stroking rhythmically, his fingers lingering around the base and his thumb caressing the head with each pass. Link whimpers, jerking against him. “Who came first?” he pants. He remembers, of course. He just wants to hear Link say it.

Link is beyond saying anything at the moment, whining and bucking into Rhett’s hand and cursing softly as Rhett increases the pace. He concentrates his attention just where Link likes it best — the sensitive ridge below his head — and exactly as Link enjoys it most, firm pressure on the shaft, sweeping attention over the top.

Link digs his fingers into Rhett’s upper arms and attempts to kiss him, but his lips connect randomly against his cheek and beard as he thrusts in time with Rhett’s strokes. His body goes rigid and a keening wail escapes his lips before his cock spasms in Rhett’s hand, spilling between them as he pants out pleasure and relief. “Me,” he manages at last. “Always me who comes first.”

Rhett laughs and presses deep kisses into his mouth. “Because I take such good care of you.”

Link relaxes heavily against him, his chest still heaving. “Mm,” he agrees. “Now let me take care of you.”

“I never remember this part as clearly.”

Link trails his hand downward, sliding easily inside Rhett’s shorts. “Our first time, you came right after I did,” he whispers. “You were staring at me like you were in shock.”

“Ah.” He shifts around and parts his legs, allowing Link better access, then wraps both arms around Link’s back. His head drops to the grass, but Link’s fingers on his cock send a surge of electricity through his body and after a few firm strokes, he’s gasping and arching his back. “Oh god, _Link._ ” He swears a few times while riding out the aftershocks, then laughs as he presses his lips to Link’s again.

“Just like that,” Link says after a while, his kisses growing slow and sleepy. “And then you got kind of weird, of course.”

Rhett runs his fingers through Link’s messy hair as his head rests against his chest. “Not weird. Worried. I was afraid you’d think it was just some temporary insanity thing, or hormones taking over. I wanted you to know it was nothin’ like that, so I told you I loved you and that I always would.”

Link nods, going silent. For a few minutes Rhett thinks maybe he’s falling asleep, but his chest gives tiny hitches that suggest tears aren’t far away. “Hey,” Rhett says softly, wrapping both arms around him again. “I do, and I will.”

“I know,” Link murmurs once his breathing evens out again. “It’s okay. That was just… just a lot.”

“Yeah,” Rhett agrees, rubbing circles against his back. “And now you’re all salty, not to mention covered in grass and dirt and cum. I sure do know how to show you a good time, huh?”

Link gives a strangled little laugh, relaxing into Rhett’s care until they both start itching. Rhett plucks long and short blades of grass off Link’s skin and flicks a ladybug back into the air. “I need a shower,” Link says.

“You sure do.” Rhett kisses his forehead and rolls both of them into a sitting position so he can admire the sight of Link with his hair mussed. “You go shower, I’ll haul in our stuff.”

“Then join me?”

“Then join you. And now that you mention it, I can’t quite remember the first time we took a shower together…”


	12. Chapter 12

Apologizing to Alex is easy. He shrugs off Rhett’s words, pretending to barely know what he’s talking about. “It’s all good, man,” he says with an easy smile. “I know you’ve been dealing with some health stuff, and I’ve been distracted with my career plans.”

“My health wasn’t an excuse to be an ass to you,” he begins, but as Alex’s smile fades Rhett decides to change track. “But listen. Congrats on the new job. That’s gonna be great for you.”

“Yeah?”

Rhett grins. “Yeah. I’m looking forward to telling people that I knew you when.”

Alex snickers, but the pleasure in his eyes is genuine. 

Stevie is another matter altogether.

It takes multiple attempts before he can get on her schedule. When he finally breaches her office, the air is chilly.

He takes a seat and faces her directly.

“Listen,” he starts without preamble. “I’m not here to apologize to you.”

“Of course not,” she replies, cold and unsurprised. “So why are you here? To fire me?”

Rhett frowns. “Nope. I’m here to thank you.”

Her face morphs through a number of expressions, ending in one where her mouth hangs half-open. “Th..thank me?”

He nods, edging closer to her desk. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “For taking care of him when I couldn’t. You’ve been the loyal friend that he deserves, all the way through. I haven’t always appreciated it, but I wanna thank you for being there for him. And for, you know…” He clears his throat before forcing himself to continue, “…not putting up with my shit. Even when it could have cost you.”

She leans back into her chair and considers him for a moment, hands steepled beneath her chin. “He asked me to give you another chance,” she says, her voice tight. “But I have to be honest with you. I’m not sure I can let go of everything that’s happened.”

His nod is as tight as her voice.

“But I’m going to do my best,” she continues. “Because this means a lot to him.” She pauses again, frowning. “And I do appreciate how much work you’ve put into things. Your biofeedback stuff, the therapy, working through stuff with Link… maybe it will be different this time.”

“It will,” he says, surprised to find his voice shaking with emotion. “And if it isn’t, you have my permission to kick my ass.” 

Her smile is a not-entirely-pleasant promise.

—

Rhett has decided that maybe therapy isn’t so bad after all.

He doesn’t look forward to it, exactly, but that doesn’t matter. He’s there for a reason, and his sessions have purpose. He arrives with his journal loaded full of notes on various thoughts and observations he’s made during the week. It’s helpful to talk about the feelings that proceed memory lapses — lapses which no longer blank out large spans of his relationship with Link. 

He also spends a lot of time discussing ways he can be a better partner and strategizing ways to stay in the moment when he catches himself “slipping.” All in all, it’s not nearly as much fun as it was when Mark was merely his captive audience silently listening to his various rants, but it’s gratifying to know he’s making progress.

“I’m proud of you,” Mark tells him at the end of a session, smiling with genuine warmth. “You’ve come a long way in a short period of time—”

“Really? Would you say I’m one of your fastest-progressing clients?”

Mark shakes his head. “It’s not a competition. You’ve really got to let go of that mindset, especially when it comes to therapy.”

Rhett sulks a little, but it’s mostly for show. The pleased feeling that began with Mark’s praise grows and intensifies. “I think I’m doing well, too,” he says, selecting his words with more care than usual. “Biofeedback therapy seems to be helping, and so does all the journaling. I’ve only had a few small slips, and between my bracelet and my journal and Link not letting things slide anymore… it feels like things are on the right path.”

“It seems the tools you and Link chose are working well for you.”

Rhett fidgets on the couch for a moment before speaking again. “So, um. Do you think I’m ready?”

“What do you think?”

Rhett gives it a few beats of thought before answering. “I think I am. I hope I am. And if not…”

“Your place on that couch will be waiting for you.”

—

They don’t make any announcements, not even to each other, intentionally keeping everything low-key. Rhett moves in a few overnight bags at a time, slowly transporting his clothing and shoes into Link’s closet. Then come a few boxes, essentials like books and records and DVDs and electronics and decorations and mementos. Finally he transplants almost the entirety of his kitchen, which isn’t a problem because Link’s shelves and cupboards are about eighty percent empty. 

Almost like they’ve been waiting for Rhett’s arrival. 

“Hey,” he says one evening as they sit outside by the pool, watching the sun set. “There’s another memory I wanted to talk about with you.”

“Yeah?” Link’s eyes are soft and warm. “I hope it involves creative sex acts.”

Rhett arches a brow. “Maybe later, but I’m being serious right now.”

“Gosh.” Link half-turns in his lawn chair and shuffles closer. “You have my undivided attention.”

Rhett clears his throat, suddenly a bit self-conscious. “Remember back when… um.” He pauses, frowning. “Of course you remember that.”

Link just sits and waits, patient. 

“Listen,” he tries again. “I’m really hoping this conversation doesn’t upset you too much, but I’ve been thinking a lot about when you asked me to marry you. I get that you didn’t quite know what you were getting into at the time…”

Link’s voice is soft. “That’s for sure.”

“…but I never stopped thinking of us as bein’ engaged. I mean, when I remembered that we were. And even though I never actually wore it, I always kept it close.” He reaches into his pocket to pull out the heavy silver ring, which he places in the center of his palm. Its weight is solid and warm. “I was wondering if you’d mind if I wore it.”

Link has grown very still. “It’s yours,” he says at last. “Up to you what you do with it.”

“That’s not how I see it.” Rhett shifts his chair closer until his knee is touching Link’s. “It’s not just a piece of jewelry. It’s a promise, and a plan. Between the both of us.” He draws in another steadying breath. “We got halfway there last time, but I’d like to go the whole way now.”

“What does that mean?” Somehow Link manages to get the words out while barely moving his lips. 

Rhett reaches into his other pocket and pulls out a nearly identical band. “A matching set,” he says hoarsely. “I know it’s gonna change things, probably a lot of things, maybe in ways we can’t even anticipate, but—”

His speech is cut short when he suddenly finds Link in his lap, arms around his neck, either laughing or crying or maybe both. “Yes,” he says. “Let’s put them on.”

“Can’t,” Rhett says. “You’re gonna have to let go first.”

“Oh.” Link remains where he is, moving only to lower his face into the crook of Rhett’s neck. “Guess you have a point there,” he adds after a shuddering breath.

“I can wait,” Rhett replies, hugging him close. “Considering how long I’ve made you wait…”

Link makes a sound that’s probably laughter. “I should make you wait for at least another hour. Only seems fair.”

“But you won’t.”

“Naw.” Link grins up at him as he pulls away to hold out one hand towards Rhett in anticipation. “You gonna say some words or something? I’d like some words.”

Rhett gives him a solemn nod. “We are gonna do something great together. Well, we’ve already done great things together, but we’re gonna do a lot more great things. Together, for the rest of our lives… unless you get sick of my shit.”

Link laughs softly, eyes shining. “I can’t say that’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard, but I’ll accept it.” His smile grows incandescent as Rhett slips the ring onto his finger. “Now let me do you.”

“Speaking of romantic…”

They’re both laughing as Link’s shaky hands eventually manage to slide Rhett’s ring into place.

\--

The episode is titled “Tales From Our Future,” but they begin by discussing their recent past. 

“There was a time, not too long ago, when we were talking about possibly wrapping up Good Mythical Morning,” Link begins, his voice and expression serious.

“Like — how many more things can we eat before people get bored?” Rhett affects a matching serious expression for the camera. “There’s got to be a limit, and Link made a good point. It’s better to end things with people still wanting more than to keep doing our thing until people get bored. We started discussing end-dates, meetings with lawyers, layoffs…”

They turn their eyes to each other and give extended, theatrical sighs before cracking up and returning their attention to the cameras.

“But then we realized that we have so much more to do, and so much more to share with all of you,” Link says, his smile bright. “We’ve got a whole bunch of new stuff to do this season, things we’re really excited about. We’d love to talk to you about all’a that, but we don’t want to give any spoilers, so we’ve decided to dedicate this episode to our distant, distant future…”

Rhett jumps in with a grin. “Where we’re in our nineties, living happily in the Home, and some old geezer decides to bully my husband. Oh wait, did I just say husband?”

Laughing, Link takes his hand and turns their fingers towards the camera. “Oh yeah! I guess that’s one future episode we can spoil. Our Mythical wedding, coming sometime next year. Stay tuned, folks: it only gets better from here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who read this! And special thanks to both concave patterns and secondhand_watermelon for beta reading my Mythical fics. They’re two of my favorite writers and my inspirations for giving this fandom a shot; I’m deeply appreciative of all their help and support. If you somehow haven’t read their stories, I highly recommend you rush run over to do that. 
> 
> Thank you again, and regardless of what 2021 brings -- take care of yourselves. 💙 Tzu


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